


Hearts of Fire

by Huehxolotl



Category: The Dragon Prince (Cartoon)
Genre: Aanya and the Sunfire elves ship it, Accidental Marriage, Badass queen and badass general adopt smol murder queen, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/F, Kazi doesn't get paid enough to put up with Amaya's sass, Lux Aurea world-building, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-09
Updated: 2020-03-31
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:21:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 48,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21729718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Huehxolotl/pseuds/Huehxolotl
Summary: For the first time since the continent was split, peace is more than just an empty word; it is a possibility. However, they will need more than happy thoughts and well-wishes to build a lasting era of peace. The kingdoms on both sides of the border will have to work together to achieve it.Yet, truthfully, real change starts somewhere smaller than kingdoms and continents. It starts with the people themselves.In Lux Aurea, it starts with two in particular.(Amaya, Janai, and all the people affected by their growing relationship after the Battle of the Spire)
Relationships: Amaya/Janai (The Dragon Prince)
Comments: 409
Kudos: 840





	1. Honor (Aanya)

_She stares down at the elf, cold anger burning in her heart. It would be easy, so_ easy _to kick that hand, the elf’s one lifeline, away from the cliff. One less elf is one less enemy, right? And this is a very high-ranking enemy, if her skill and outfit is any indication. Even if she has already lost, a small, vengeful part of her is demanding that she take down any and every elf with her._

_But the elf, the warrior who matched her blow for blow, watches her._

_Just...watches her._

_She has seen this elf angry, frustrated, suspicious, and even cockily grinning, but never,_ not once _, has hatred touched her eyes. Even now, there is no fury at having been bested, no fear that she is at the mercy of a_ human _._

_She merely stares, waiting for her next action._

_This elf, who foiled her plans twice, who has every reason to hate her for their intrusion...does not._

_Her anger wavers at that look._

‘Has there not been enough death on each side?’

_Suddenly weary, she releases that old, old hatred along with the grip on her shield. Her body feels oddly light as she hauls up the elf. She has no intention of just giving up, of rolling over and dying, but hatred has no place in her heart for this enemy._

_Though when the elven soldiers roughly tie her up, she has no problem resolving to be as uncooperative as possible out of_ spite _._

**~Janai~**

Humans are interesting creatures, with their child leaders, human mages, a baker warrior, and... the General.

Before, she could not stand humans because she thought them barbaric and offensive.

Now, she cannot stand them because she has had far too many surprises in a very short span of time.

- _And the little mage boy called the General her “friend.” How dare he?_ -

Gazing at the woman whose garb denotes her to be a priestess of some sort and the man of dark skin similar to her own, she narrows her eyes and wonders what surprises _they_ are hiding.

“Excuse me, Golden Knight. If you could perhaps answer a question of mine.”

She blinks and looks first to the right where the voice originates, then, upon seeing nothing, looks _down_. The girl queen watches her with curiosity and an intelligence that would startle her, had she any energy left to be surprised. As it is, she tilts her head in agreement to the respectful -and entirely too politically-toned- request, unconsciously noting that the General beside her mimics her actions.

“Do your people employ assassins that are pure shadow and smoke? Unseen creatures that disintegrate with a single blow?” The girl queen’s smile is unnaturally soft for the topic at hand. It makes her look young, _too_ young.

Though perhaps that is intentional.

“Of course not,” she answers firmly. “And the Moonshadow would never stoop to such crass methods.”

The girl, Queen...Aanya, if she recalls correctly, nods slowly. “Yes, I did not think so. I found it highly convenient that, so soon after Viren attempted to rally the kingdoms against the “Xadian threat,” all the leaders of the kingdoms excluding his own were attacked by magical creatures.”

The General scoffs and rolls her eyes at the girl queen’s words. There is no derision in her actions, however, and she remembers how easily the General discerned who the “king” she spoke of was.

“You never trusted that man,” she states, more for Queen Aanya’s sake than her own. The lack of expression the child watches them with makes it clear that she is quite used to being disrespected. _She_ wants to make it clear that this is not such an occasion. “Hmph. Unsurprising. As rotten as that _monster_ was, one pure of heart such as yourself would not find his presence tolerable.”

The General raises an eyebrow, but does nothing more than shrug. There is a glint in her eye that suggests that, had an interpreter been present, she would have more to say. From the almost devious twist to her smile, it is likely for the better that Kazi and the orange-haired human are elsewhere at the moment.

Turning her attention back to the young queen, she asks, “You said “all” leaders? Including yourself?”

Queen Aanya’s lips twitch into a smile that is almost terrifying. “Viren is very skilled at orating, but far less so at listening, it seems. I _did_ tell him that I have survived countless assassination attempts since taking the crown. His shadow warrior was remarkable solely because I have never killed one before.”

She stares at the smugly satisfied child with growing respect. That the girl has survived regular _assassination_ attempts is a credit to her skill; that she has _had_ to endure such a thing is a discredit to her people. Aanya is clearly a capable ruler and warrior, one with a kind heart and a strong sense of honor. What reason would her people have to dispose of her?

The General nudges her elbow -for the second time that day- and points to her right. Her gaze leads to her sword, and then it is _her_ turn to scoff.

“Don’t be ridiculous. I cannot give her a sword!”

The General crosses her arms and glares. ‘ _Why not?’_ What insolence, to make such demands of her with no fear. And anyway.

“She is not a warrior as we are. A dagger would be _far_ better a weapon. It is subtle, and easy to hide. She clearly plays on her age to throw off opponents, which makes a sword too bold a statement.”

Her glare disappears as she tilts her head in agreement. ‘ _Fair point_.’

“Ah, I’m flattered, but that really isn’t necessary. I’m more partial to a bow,” Aanya insists, looking somewhat alarmed at their conversation. Or maybe that they so clearly saw through her “innocent” act.

Waving her hand, she says, “Of course you will receive a bow as well. Of Moonshadow design, however. You demonstrated skill equal to our finest archers, and only our finest are allowed to use such weapons.”

The General holds up a hand, face lighting up from whatever new idea has crossed her mind. Eagerly she puts the tips of her fingers together and forms a...mountain? Then she moves her left hand up and down, keeping her fingers connected.

Ah, she understands. “A folding blade? As the Dragonguard carries?”

She nods and folds her arms against her chest.

”Certainly more discreet,” she says slowly, “but lacking in power. If an assassin is close enough to require the use of the blade at all, is it not better for the queen to make an example of them?” They frown at each other, undecided, before turning to the increasingly alarmed Aanya as one. “Would you prefer a folding blade, or a sunforge blade? What signal you mean to send is, after all, your decision.”

Aanya’s eyes are wide as her gaze bounces between the two of them. It is the least composed she has seen the girl thus far, and part of her almost considers her embarrassment to be...cute.

By the light of the sun. What has she become?

“I, um.” Aanya clears her throat, but the nearly imperceptible blush on her cheeks does not fade. “I am quite interested in the, uh, sunforge weapons.”

She cannot fully hold back a proud smirk, and the General is nodding in approval. “Then it will be done, once we return to the city, assess the damage, and.” She falters there, remembering her sister; how she faded away, leaving her nothing but memories, the throne, and a city in chaos, and she could do naught but _watch_. Too far away to help her dear sister, and yet only so close because the General insisted that they were in danger. Where would she have been, had she not listened? How many more would have been lost, had she not been prepared to rally her troops?

A hand on her bicep breaks her from her thoughts. _She_ watches her with kind, understanding eyes; the same eyes that reached her through her fury back then.

“...And I take my place...as queen,” she continues emotionlessly.

Merely saying those words aloud is enough for her to feel the heavy burden of rulership that she never wanted. _Khessa_ was always meant to be the queen; she was more than content in her position as Golden Knight. Fighting is where she has always excelled, and so never did she show an interest in learning how to rule. Why would she need to, with her sister there?

But now the throne is hers. _Lux Aurea_ is hers. They will need to call back those they evacuated, count their losses, rebuild, and purify their Sun. Her people’s lives have been irrevocably changed in such a short amount of time, and it is up to _her_ to protect them. To guide them. As queen.

- _She does not think that title will become any lighter, no matter how often she repeats it to herself_ -

The General’s grip is tight on her arm, and Aanya’s gaze heavy with sympathy -no _, empathy_ , for she must have faced her own losses to wear the crown at such a young age- and she forces herself to shake away her uneasiness and focus on the humans.

“At least, with the amount of work our city needs, I can convince them to skip the celebrations,” she says lightly. None believe that she is unaffected, but they do not call her out on it. “My sister is...was, more fond of such things than I am.”

She knows her words are a mistake before she finishes them, the General stepping back with a look so offended that she already knows that an argument is about to start, regardless of whether or not they can understand each other.

“ _No_. No celebrations!”

The General crosses her arms, scowls, and looks away with a huff.

Aanya giggles, then covers her mouth in mortification. It takes her a moment to regain composure, but her smile does not leave her lips. “A small one would not go amiss, I think. If only to allow them to forget for a short time.”

“...I suppose,” she agrees reluctantly. The advice is sound, and she knows she honestly cannot expect her people not to celebrate in some manner, but she is well aware of the demands her new station will make of her. Privacy is something she has always valued, and now she will have next to none.

Quick, heavy footsteps of an armored Sun Warrior head in their direction. She turns, the General again mimicking her movements, and prays that there is no bad news. Her warrior stops before them with a bow, informing them that another of the search units has arrived for a report. Their break is over, and duty calls.

A small part of her takes comfort in returning to the battlefield, to her place as Golden Knight. It will not be long, after all, before she must leave that title behind.

Forever.

**~Aanya~**

Aanya expected certain things when she ordered her troops to march to Xadia: Katolis agents as allies, elves and dragons as _potential_ allies, and Viren a sure threat to be taken down. And those are all things she found, yes.

Dragons - _real, huge dragons!_ \- wander the battlefield, eager to protect the newly returned prince and the awakened queen until they are sure the threat has passed. The captured enemy soldiers from the other kingdoms glow with hearts of fire and “skin” that is closer to rock. Their minds are nearly gone due to the magic Viren wielded to turn them, but the few survivors retain enough semblance of self to know better than to fight against their captors.

The Katolis king speaks to all creatures, and has bonded with the baby dragon prince. His step-brother is, apparently, the first human to use primal magic, and is obviously in love with the Moonshadow elf that guards the dragon prince. A love that is returned by the young elf.

What little she knows of the journey those four endured is fantastical, something that will surely be turned into an epic story in the near future. That, however, does not _surprise_ her as much as it strikes her curiosity.

What _is_ a surprise is one particular Sunfire elf, and one particular Katolis warrior: Golden Knight Janai and General Amaya. They are interesting to watch for a number of reasons. The Golden Knight’s Sunfire warriors will bow to her, and to King Ezran, as they would any royalty, but they also treat the General with the same, if not _more_ respect than they do Ezran. They do not bow, but they watch her constantly, straightening under her gaze, running to complete her orders, and smiling when she is with their leader. Janai herself seems oddly partial to the General, treating her as an equal and a friend both.

The strange story of a kind hearted assassin, a human mage, and two princes will be denoted as one of unexpected friendships, will be the one that spreads throughout the land, but that hardly compares to the two women who were, only weeks before, _enemies_. Their hatred and distrust of each other has been ingrained in them for longer than she has been alive. It is a part of who they are, part of each nation, and she knows that it will take many, _many_ generations for that trust to rebuild.

Yet somehow, these two women move and act as if they have been friends for years. To be perfectly honest, she finds their story to be the most intriguing of this entire affair.

“As I understand it, you were not traveling with King Ezran and the others. How then did you come to Xadia?”

_How did you come to meet Janai?_

General Amaya tilts her head with a smirk, then nudges Janai. She has noticed the General perform that same action several times over the course of the three days since the battle, both to get her attention, and as a statement in itself. Rarely does the Golden Knight not understand whatever statement she is trying to make, in spite of their relatively short acquaintance and inability to communicate properly. King Ezran himself has commented on their strange understanding; though never when Janai is within earshot, as the Sunfire elf tends to grumble quite a bit when anyone brings it up.

She thinks that much of their understanding is due to their personalities, and how openly emotional they both are. Amaya _must_ rely on body expression for communication due to her disability, and Janai is simply expressive; in her expressions if not always her body language. The elf tends to hold herself sternly until emotions get the better of her, though she makes an effort to move more with her words when speaking with Amaya.

It’s...kind of sweet, actually.

Fixing her with a vaguely sheepish expression, Janai obeys the order and explains, “She attempted to destroy the route into Xadia, and though I anticipated her actions, she succeeded. Not without trapping herself on our side of the border, however, and nearly killing me. She saved my life...and I took her prisoner.” Janai huffs. “She was a _terrible_ prisoner.”

Startled, she blinks at them and, for lack of anything to say, takes a sip of her water. Amaya’s shoulders shake with suppressed laughter at her expression. It’s odd, how out of sorts being in the presence of these two women makes her. Were they anyone else, she would have no issue interrogating them, picking them apart to discover if they are trustworthy - _most aren’t_ \- or enemies. After her initial questioning of Janai, however, she has not found the urge to _want_ to. They treat her as a leader of equal status and listen to her suggestions, instantly putting them above every other adult ruler, advisor, and soldier she has dealt with in her life.

At the same time, they treat her as a child to be protected. Not the way those do back home, acting as if she is _unable_ to care for herself, or incapable of protecting herself. It is more subtle than that; in addition to the strange argument over which weapon would be better suited for her use, they go out of their way to ensure she eats, rests, and even sleeps properly. She was initially inclined to be offended at their treatment of her, but once Janai was through insisting that she quit the battlefield on the first day, she turned on Amaya and reiterated her words in a much slower, more forceful manner.

She had been too amused at their subsequent argument to remember that she wanted to be upset, and had happily followed a sulking Amaya and a laughing Gren to the tents that had been set up for them.

From the unreasonably proud smirk Janai watched them leave with, she thinks that it may have been the first argument between the two that she has won.

The beat of a dragon’s wings draws her attention to the sky. It’s the red one with a broken horn and more spikes than seems reasonable that lands near their campfire. It is also the dragon favored by King Ezran, who spends much of his time speaking with the Queen and the dragon prince. As expected, he is riding it now, and slips off clumsily after the creature lands.

“Aunt Amaya!” he exclaims when he is close enough for his lips to be read. “Have you seen Callum?”

Amaya shakes her head and points at the mountain with her thumb.

“He has not left the Dragonguard’s side except to beg the Skywing for magical instruction,” Janai explains further.

“Oh, I should have known. Okay then! A group of Skywing elves are on the way, so I thought I would warn him.”

The sound that Janai responds with is something between a groan of disgust and a scoff. “ _Skywings_. Flighty, unreliable creatures.”

After a short conversation about who exactly is among the group of elves -it seems the Skywing leader is among them- Amaya shoos the boy off to find his brother. The young king spares her a curious glance as he leaves, but now is not the time for casual conversation, and they have nothing pressing to speak of. She knows that she _should_ be more willing to converse with the new king. They have much in common: being rulers, being orphans, being _children_.

But when King Ezran smiles, his joy is true and his laughter is genuine. He trusts easily, and sees the good in all. He is _innocent_.

Innocent in ways that she has never been allowed to be, and part of her recoils at his presence. Is that what she would have been like, had her mothers survived? Would she have known such happiness? Would she have known what it is to trust? The questions disturb her focus, which is the last thing she needs when she is in a foreign land. Later. She will speak with him later. With the state the human kingdom is in, she is certain that they will be meeting often, anyway.

“Must they send their leader? Now I have to _greet_ them,” Janai complains quietly, stirring her porridge in a manner that can only be described as sulking.

Amaya smiles without a single trace of sympathy. Reaching over, she pushes the bowl aside, grabs the inner edges of her shoulder pauldrons, and straightens them out. Satisfied with her work, she pretends not to see Janai’s glare as she pats her shoulder.

Then the General turns to _her_ and reaches out.

She stiffens, an instinct ingrained in her after years of assassination attempts, of merchants grabbing her while attempting to endear themselves to her, of nobles patting her head or shoulder in condescension.

Just as with Janai’s glare, Amaya pretends she does not see her reaction, patting dirt off her clothes and, after giving her a critical look-over, gently straightening her crown. It takes her a minute to remember to breathe, to relax her muscles, to convince herself that there _is no threat here_.

Amaya returns to eating.

Janai watches her placidly, reaching down into her bag once she is certain that no panic attack is imminent -or perhaps that she is no threat to Amaya, which is laughable because she is half Amaya’s height and a quarter her weight _at best_ \- and pulling out a box of…

“Marshmallows?” she blurts out incredulously.

Blushing under the scrutiny of Amaya and herself, Janai mutters that they’re her favorite, then busies herself with sticking one on the end of a stick that she just... _grabs off the ground_. So preoccupied with trying to come to terms with the undignified method of eating, she doesn’t notice Amaya picking up a stick for each of them until she is waving it in front of her face.

“I’ve...never had one like this before,” she protests weakly.

Amaya rolls her eyes, sticks one of the white blobs on the end of a stick, and hands it back to her.

When she had ordered her troops to Xadia, she did not expect to find the first semblance of peace in her entire life to be found at a campfire, sitting with two female warriors - _former enemies turned friends and maybe something more considering how they look at each other_ \- and learning how to properly toast a marshmallow before they endure a meeting with Skywing elves.

Yet here she is, and she finds that she does not mind at all.


	2. Prevail (Lux Aurea)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amaya returns to Lux Aurea, wondering what role she will play during her visit.
> 
> The Sunfire elves wonder the same thing, but come to a sliiiiiightly inaccurate conclusion.

_There are only two things in her life that she believes implicitly: that the sun will rise every morning, and that her sister loves her._

_She has always had a hard time differentiating Khessa, Sunfire Queen, and Khessa, her sister, in her mind. For her entire life, Khessa was either future queen or current queen, and there was never a “before and after” regarding their relationship. Or her attitude. Their childhood was often interesting as a result, for though they love each other, their different ideas of “fun” and shared stubbornness resulted in some truly explosive arguments._

_Some priceless artifacts may have been broken at Khessa’s hands._

_And she_ may _have set a few drapes on fire._

 _So as she argues in favor of sparing the human prisoner, the one who spared_ her _life, she does not think of the insolence that is a warrior arguing with a queen, because that is not what she is doing. Right here, right now, she is a little sister, begging her older sister to_ please, listen to me for once _._

_‘I am alive because this human spared me,’ she all but says with her words. They are too personal to say in public, when she is the Golden Knight and her sister is Queen, but her meaning comes across. ‘We owe her at least her life.’_

_And though Khessa hates humans, hates all that they represent and all that they have done, her love for her little sister is stronger than her hate._

_Out of love for her sister, Khessa puts the human through the only test that will guarantee her life: the test of Light. It is both a punishment and a mercy. If the human fails, she dies and Khessa ensures that her sister is safe; if she passes, she lives and Janai will have her wish._

_She is certain that the human will endure. How can one possess such honor and not? But she also does not know what the Light will reveal. Which, she supposes, is the point._

_None of them expect the Light to reveal...nothing._

_Nothing but tears._

_She has seen many reactions to the Light, and some tears are not uncommon. It is akin to looking at the sun, after all, and not even those who draw their power from the sun can stare directly into its light without pain. The tears of the human general, however, are unlike any she has ever seen._

_Gently leading her back to her cell, she worries that the Light has damaged her in some way, even though she was proven to have a pure heart. Do humans react differently to the sun? She has never heard of or witnessed such a thing, but what else explains the human’s tears?_

_It is only when the human sniffles that she realizes that the tears_ are _what the Light revealed._

_This human, so honorable and proud, carries a great scar on her soul that has yet to heal._

_It is a pain that she does not understand at that moment._

_But all too soon, she will._

**~Amaya~**

If she ignores the foreboding darkness of the corrupted sun stone, Lux Aurea is a _beautiful_ city. Gleaming gold and white, surrounded by fields and rivers, it must appear to be heaven in the summer days.

And it’s so much easier to appreciate when she is led to it unchained.

A week since the battle saw her following Janai and her people back to the golden city. She did not strictly _need_ to do so, as she is no longer a prisoner, but there is also no need for her to rush back to the border. It’s not as though she has to defend it against Xadian incursions anymore.

Callum had, to no one’s surprise, stayed with the Moonshadow elf at the Spire. His infatuation with the girl is cute, now that she knows the girl isn’t out to kill her nephews. ...Anymore. Never was it more clear that Callum has inherited none of Sarai’s smoothness and _all_ of his father’s awkwardness; the boy is a bumbling mess that is painful to watch at times.

 _So painful_.

Ezran had returned to Katolis with the relief force led by Queen Aanya. The throne awaits him, and though she worries for his safety and health, she knows that Corvus and Opeli will watch over and advise him better than she can. And Soren is an acceptable protector, though they need to rebuild the Crownsguard immediately. It stings, a little, to entrust her nephew to others, but she has never had a head -or the patience- for politics. Her place is in the military, and so that is where she will remain.

Her decision had been met with confusion, the boys questioning why she would stay with the Sunfire elves -with _Janai_ \- in the same breath she claimed to want to return to her post.

Queen Aanya, however, had all but jumped at the chance to defend her.

 _“The Sunfire elves consider her an equal and a friend. The logistics of creating a proper border crossing would best be left to the General, who has been stationed there for years. Not to mention, we lack the expertise to_ begin _to understand how Viren transformed his army, or if the spell can be reversed. Eventually transporting them back to the human side will also be a major undertaking, as we cannot honestly expect Lux Aurea to take them permanently when the city has its own problems. Right now, Lux Aurea is the_ best _place for General Amaya to be.”_

The young queen’s tone had been firm; not condescending, but also brooking no argument. Had it not been for the subtle glance her way, and the even less obvious relief at her agreement, she would have thought that the girl was solely thinking practically. But there is no denying that, in that split second, Aanya had been looking for _validation_.

When she had first met Aanya - _fearlessly interrogating Janai no less_ \- she had seen the stern set of her jaw, the regal stance, and eyes more jaded than most of her soldiers. This girl, she had thought, has suffered her entire life. A child queen carrying the weight of the throne _and_ the loss of her mothers? She should have cracked under the pressure, yet, somehow, she became strong from it.

Too strong, she thinks sadly, for Aanya looks upon the world with untrusting eyes. How many betrayals has she endured, to trust in no advice but her own? How often has she survived assassinations, to react so terribly to the merest touch? When was the last time she truly believed that someone cared for her? Does she even think of herself as a child, outside of the sense that she has yet to hit her growth spurt?

The closest to relaxed that she has seen Aanya was during those short times when it was just Janai and them, sitting around a campfire, going over reports or simply eating.

She isn’t sure what is more confusing; that Aanya so quickly deemed her trustworthy, or that she extended that trust to _Janai_ as well. Their conversations, though mostly on military matters in the first day, easily veered into all manner of other things. Tentative ideas for opening the border turned into musings on the condition of each kingdom, which led to avid descriptions from each about their homes. Aanya was particularly interested in the stories of Lux Aurea, and the Sunfire elf culture, though all were careful to skirt around the subject of Janai’s sister.

In fact, Aanya spent so much time at their side that Gren privately commented that she had gained an extra shadow. Or rather, that Janai had gained two shadows, as she... _accidentally_ found herself spending most of her time with the elf that had been her captor.

‘ _I will have to ask Kazi about the Sunfire coronation ceremony, and whether it will be appropriate to insist that Aanya and Ezran attend._ ’

Almost as if summoned by her thoughts, Kazi appears before her at the side of a warrior. Janai must have sent word to have the interpreter -who had returned to the city the day after the battle- waiting for them after Gren had been convinced to return to the border. He had argued, of course, but she is determined to build a _real_ border passing. Gren is more of a diplomat than a warrior, and has been her lieutenant for years, and he will be more useful there, keeping peace between the elves and the humans until she returns.

Kazi is quick to welcome her back and express their amazement that she is walking. Slightly rude, but she smiles nevertheless. The young -so she assumes- elf is a bit awkward and shy, not malicious, and the last time they had seen each other was before the battle, at the meeting in the Spire.

"I only almost died," she signs back, lifting her head to show her neck with a wince. That she has only bruises as souvenirs of the fight is a miracle; the monster that was Prince Kasef had grabbed her _hard_. Had Janai not caught her, she is certain her head would have been bashed open against the cliff.

Kazi questions her in a flurry of signs, alarmed expressions, and voiced words that are too quick for her to fully understand. It’s amusing to watch, and she is ready to start teasing the interpreter for caring when Janai steps next to them, halting the flood of questions.

“Escort the General to the healing ward.” Her words are directed to Kazi -who interprets faithfully- but she meets _her_ gaze stubbornly to ensure her lips are read, daring her to object.

Narrowing her eyes, she is ready to do just that when Janai starts speaking again.

“I will send a messenger when her room is prepared. As she is no longer our prisoner, you will serve as her guide.” Kazi jumps at the sudden promotion - _is it really?_ \- and fidgets with their hands nervously. “I will be securing the cells for our new prisoners. We must be ready to receive them by tomorrow night.”

That is the end of their conversation. Janai is the Golden Knight, the _queen_ , and she has responsibilities to her people and her city. Amaya does not want to stand in her way - _not anymore_ \- and so she bites back her instinct to argue, settling for watching her walk away.

It isn’t until Kazi waves their hand to get her attention that she realizes she is probably watching for a little _too_ long, and a little too intently.

"This way," Kazi signs. Pointing to their left, they look at her expectantly.

Smirking wickedly, she replies, "Wait. Where are the markets?"

Kazi answers, only realizing their mistake when she turns toward the said district and starts walking. After all, Janai didn’t say _when_ to take her to the healers; only that they should go there. At some point. Kazi fusses the entire time, desperately attempting to persuade her to just go _this way_ to the healers at every turn. The poor elf is ignored with all unconcern she gives anyone who is being silly for no reason. Within hours, she has new clothes, has sampled several new kinds of food, and made a mental list of the weapons she _really_ wants to get her hands on.

All on Janai’s coin, obviously, as she has nothing of her own but what she is wearing. She hopes Kazi doesn’t get into _too_ much trouble when the bill is handed over.

She was treated to more than a few hostile glances during her unauthorized excursion, but Kazi’s presence confused them enough that few cared for long. The ones that did were quick to change their minds when the Sun warriors on patrol greeted her so warmly.

More than shopping, she wants to see the state of the city. Buildings are damaged, fields are burned, some areas are flooded, and there are bloodstains left to show where some - _too many_ \- could not escape Viren’s monsters fast enough, but overall, the city is not entirely lost. Viren was too greedy to fully destroy a city that he saw as his, more content with making his example and moving on. Why waste his time with a single city, when there was the dragon prince and queen to steal the power of?

The emotional damage of seeing their Sun, what Kazi claims to be a large primal stone and the source of their power, corrupted by dark magic is almost the worst part of it all. None of the elves can stand to look in that direction, at the place where their queen was killed and their city fell. It is a blight upon the landscape, and from the persistent _itch_ at her instincts that never ceases, she wonders if it’s more than just an eyesore. She would not be surprised to find out that it has physical side-effects on the elves or the land. Janai has mentioned purifying it, but from the resignation in the elve’s expressions, she wonders if it’s even possible.

The healer Kazi leads her to only blinks at seeing a human grace their halls, quickly ushering her to a room when it is revealed that she is there on Janai’s orders. Her neck and left arm are a purple and black that has Kazi and the healer both wincing. Kazi, because they are not used to seeing wounds, and the healer because he can tell that had she been hit any harder, her arm would have broken. There’s nothing that can be done for her but let her bruises heal. Which she has already been told twice at the Spire, but Janai is apparently overprotective. They are kind enough to offer a bath _-a real bath, thank the gods_ \- new bandages, and a soothing cream that, frankly, works better than any human medicine in existence.

The medicine is _not_ half the reason she wanted to come to Lux Aurea.

...It was more like a _third_ of her motivation.

Her uniform, sadly, is a lost cause. The armor can be saved, but the rest of her clothes are torn, stained, and burned, turning blue into a motley of blacks, reds, and sweat-stained dark blue. She has no choice but to settle for trashing the clothes and collecting the armor pieces in a provided bag.

She mourns the loss of her trusty uniform -it has survived capture and several battles- for approximately two seconds.

Then she devotes her energies to admiring her new Sunfire outfit, which is made out of the most comfortable material she has ever worn. The short sleeveless tunic allows her a full range of movement and is blessedly cool in the warmer Lux Aurea temperatures. Though less material than she’s used to considering she spends most days in uniform, she has to admit that she looks damn good in it. For the pants, she chose a slim white pair that are more flexible than they look, the silky material nearly weightless. And the _shoes_. She rarely wears anything other than boots or greaves, so she grabbed Sunfire boots out of habit. But though they look similar to her uniform boots, she discovers immediately that they are half the weight and twice as strong. Not to mention heat resistant to what is a normal degree for Sunfire elves but ridiculous for humans.

Yeah, she’s definitely taking a dozen of these back home.

The red and gold is a harsh change from the Battalion blues, but she finds herself warming up to the colors rather quickly. All she needs is some gold bands to really sell the outfit. She might just have to buy -well, have Janai buy- another set or three, because she would love to see her soldier’s expressions when she runs around dressed like a Sunfire elf.

They have not traveled far from the healing ward when a soldier finds them and escorts them to her room. Kazi follows dutifully, though their increasing amount of fidgeting and rambling descriptions of the architecture signals that they are unsure if they are _allowed_ to be following them. It’s just as well that they do, as she has plenty of questions regarding the condition of the city and Janai’s work. She doesn’t expect to be given many answers -she is a foreigner here, and was a prisoner a week ago- but she is pleasantly surprised when the soldier gives her all the information that she asks for and then some.

Of the survivors that have been evacuated, most are cleared to return. The soldiers that Janai had sent to secure the city after the battle have, with the help of their mages, verified that no traps or enemies lie in wait. Thankfully few civilians were injured, though that came at the cost of many of the city’s soldiers having perished in their defense.

This she knew. She had been among them.

For her entire life, elves had been the enemy, the monster in the closet that parents frightened their children with. But when she fought among them that day, and in the days after, there had been no enemy but the once-human soldiers led by Viren. She had watched brave warriors take mortal blows for escaping civilians, watched them sacrifice themselves just to give their friends and family a _chance_ to survive, watched men, women, and children scream and cry and desperately reach out for each other.

Watched men, women, and children _die._

The Sunfire elves are not monsters; they are just...people from a different land, and no one deserves what Viren had done to them.

Janai’s coronation is another difficult matter. Typically, there is a period of mourning after a queen dies, which gives the new queen some time to transition into the role. That _would_ hold true here as well, but with the city wrecked, Janai has to take up the responsibilities that she never trained for -or ever wanted- immediately. Their high mage is dead, the sacred staff stolen, and replacements for both will take time to procure. Another problem is the corrupted Sun. It is an integral part of their coronation ceremony, the new queen having to stand in its light and face judgement before truly ascending to the throne.

In short, everything is a mess, and Amaya? She has never been one to sit still when people need help.

“Wherever you need extra help, we are available to-wait? _We_?”

**~Sunfire Elves~**

Those of the Sun pride themselves on many things: their strength, their passion, their desire to protect.

But they are also people, and people gossip.

Especially about their _rulers_.

It takes very little time for the entire city to hear the story of the human in their midst. Captured by the Golden Knight, the once prisoner fought her own king and countrymen in defense of first their city, then the dragon prince. What happened between then and now?

People wonder, and they whisper amongst themselves.

Here is what they know:

The Golden Knight argued with the Queen in favor of sparing the human’s life.

The human was judged pure of heart and left in the Golden Knight’s custody.

The human was seen running with the Golden Knight just before their Sun was corrupted, and was also seen holding the Golden Knight.

The human fought side-by-side with the Golden Knight

The human spends much time with the Golden Knight.

The human has a personal room.

The human has a personal assistant.

The human has unlimited access to the Golden Knight’s funds.

 _“What does it mean?_ ” they ask each other. “ _What is she to our Golden Knight? What is she to Lux Aurea?_ ”

There are many possibilities, and the people watch her to figure out the truth.

An ally to Xadia, they think at first, for she fought against the Dark Mage.

A friend to Lux Aurea, they decide, as she spends day after day working with them, eating with them, drinking with them. She dresses as they do, and treats them all with kindness. As the days after the Battle of the Spire continue on, they nearly forget that the human was once an enemy.

But what they want to know _most_ is this: what is General Amaya to Golden Knight Janai?

It is not until the ritual to purify their Sun, thirteen days after the Battle, do the people get their answer.

Outside the Sun Forge, there is one series of events.

The entire city gathers in the early morning, watching and praying for their Golden Knight to succeed. And to survive. A light shines from the Sun Forge; small but powerful against the darkness, rising with the sun.

Slowly but steadily the dark tendrils fade, the light of their Golden Knight growing brighter. Against the light, the darkened Sun seems even darker and more foreboding.

Until it stops.

This, they know, is where the true battle begins. The Knight has made her mark, and now must fight the rest of the way.

The wait is unbearable, all noise in what feels like the entire world ceases as they wait for a change.

Change comes in the form of the defiant light flashing almost painfully bright, forcing the darkness to retreat until their Sun shines strong once again.

The people’s cheers shake the foundations of their city, so great is their joy. Their Sun is back, and their queen has taken her place. They are the people of the sun, and just like the sun, they _will_ rise once again.

Inside the Sun Forge, so the rumors go that night, there was another series of events.

While the city gathers outside, the Knight, the priests, several soldiers, and the General gather solemnly around the Sun. They know the risks, know that to fail is to die, and the tension is thick.

But it must be done, for only royalty can truly _connect_ to their Sun, and the Golden Knight refuses to show her fear.

With primal stone in hand, the Knight makes the connection to the Sun, beginning the long fight. The air crackles and the darkness seethes at her attack, but the Knight stands firm, glowing from the influence of the small, hastily made stone and the bolstering spells the mages have cast. She pushes against the darkness, throws her inner light at it and forces it to retreat into the Sun.

The wait is painful, but eventually the darkness and the Knight reach their standstill. The Knight, in visible pain, has fallen to her knee, and still, _still_ she glares in defiance.

The darkness does not falter, and the Knight cannot fight forever, but it is not the darkness _or_ the Knight that makes the next move.

It is the General.

The General rushes to the Knight’s side, breaking protocol, breaking _tradition_ , and holds her from behind. Instead of being rejected, she is enveloped by the primal stone’s power, her spirit tied to that of the Knight. The light pulses as it adjusts to this new spirit, then flares, their combined strength burning out the corruption as if it were kindling.

And with the corruption gone, the Sun mercilessly casts its rays and judgement upon the women who dare stand before it.

The Light of the Sun reveals all truths, and when it fades, what it reveals to those present is the sight of their newly confirmed queen and the human general, unconscious and holding hands.

Throughout the night, all the elves of Lux Aurea raise their drinks and cheer.

_“To our Sun!”_

_“To Queen Janai!”_

_“To Queen Consort Amaya!”_

Well, all except for a certain interpreter, who, while trudging home after yet another long day of running around with the Golden Knight and the General, hears the cheering and promptly trips over their own feet. Heedless of the crowd rushing around them, Kazi stops in the middle of the street and buries their paling face in their hands. “ _Queen con-_ Oh. Oh my.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a mighty need to see Amaya dressed in Sunfire outfits now. Curse my imagination.


	3. Suffering (Kazi)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Janai faces the aftermath of the purification ritual.
> 
> Kazi ponders the strange turn their life took.

_There were many times during this strange journey of hers that a lesser person would have broken. From fighting against elves at the breach to being a prisoner to fighting a war_ in defense of _elves, her mind is scrambling to keep up. At this point, she is running on pure instinct -always reliable, her instincts- stubbornness, and some questionable potions provided by the Sunfire healers._

_She expected a breakdown to happen at some point._

_She doesn’t expect it to happen in the shadow of the murdered king of dragons, Thunder. Staring up at the morbid memorial, she remembers her fear and desperation. Remembers the brave queens of Duren. Remembers Sarai._

_That creature stole her sister from her, stole Aanya’s mothers. Three queens, taken in a single day. Until now, she was certain that the dragon deserved his death, had been satisfied with the price that monster paid._

_But she is less certain as she understands for the first time what Harrow’s grief and Viren’s magic wrought._

_The dragon, forever frozen, reaching out for his family. Her sister’s spear forever embedded in his chest, an eternal symbol of the power of hate._

_Sarai, her_ honorable, cheerful _older sister, is a symbol of hate._

_Standing there in the field marred by smoke and blood, her grief is overtaken by disgust. For Harrow. For Viren. For Thunder. For herself. For everyone and everything that led to this._

_The King of Dragons killed Sarai for their trespassing._

_Harrow killed him in revenge._

_The Dragon Queen then sent assassins to kill_ Harrow _in revenge._

_What a senseless, never-ending cycle they have brought upon themselves. All this death, all this suffering, and for what? The only ones suffering are the innocent; the ones left behind to mourn forever more. Death, she finally sees, cannot be answered with more death._

_She falls to her knees, vision blurry from tears, and knows with absolute certainty that Sarai would have been horrified that so much pain was born in her name._

_That her_ sons _suffered so much pain because of Harrow’s actions._

_Red and gold flicker in the corner of her eye._

Janai _._

_Another person that has suffered. Her city ravaged, her people devastated, her sister murdered. All because they didn’t allow an army to pass to hunt down a baby. She has held strong through the battles and the aftermath, and her people praise her for it._

_But she knows better. They are nothing if not kindred spirits, and just as she used the military to distract herself from Sarai’s death, she knows that Janai is clinging desperately to every distraction she can find. To stop is to face the pain. The loss. The suffering._

_Idly, she wonders if the day will come when she can share the story of her sister, if she can let her know that she truly_ understands _her pain. Not now, though. Not in the shadow of the death that started it all._

_With a deep breath, she stands and wipes her tears. She has had her years of mourning. Now, she must move on._

‘I’m so sorry, Sarai. I swear, from this day forward, I will be better than our history.’

**~Janai~**

When she wakes, it is with a throbbing headache and a full-body ache.

_‘What happened?’_

There had been darkness. And light.

_‘Ah. The purification.’_

There had been pain. Burning. Desperation.

_‘I nearly perished.’_

Nearly. If not for…

“Amaya.” The name rolls off her tongue, a mere whisper that seems to hang in the air. It is the first time she has ever said that name aloud, but after being tied to her spirit, after seeing the truth of her _soul_ , it feels only appropriate to use it.

They should have died. For many reasons, not the least of which is her own bloodline that provides some protection from the Sun’s strength, none but the queen can fully open themselves to the Sun. But the corruption was nearly too strong for her spirit alone, even with the extra protections set up by her mages. Staring into that darkness, she knew with absolute certainty that she would die in the Sunforge, just as her sister had. But she would not _fail_. She knew that she could burn out the corruption; it would only take all her life’s energy to do so.

It did not matter to her that death was inevitable. Her people would be left without a ruler, true, but what is a single queen to the Sun? So long as the heart of the city lived, so too would the People of the Sun.

That was worth fighting for. Worth _dying_ for.

And then Amaya, the stupid, reckless human, threw herself into the fight. She should have died for her attempt, should have burned up from the force of the primal stone’s unfettered power, yet not only did she live, she _thrived_.

In the midst of her fight, of her pain, the awareness of Amaya’s soul had struck her like lightning. Amaya is calm where she is emotional, immovable where she is rash, but their passion, desire to protect, sense of honor, and their _inner fire_ are equal.

Equal apart, unstoppable together.

 _Fight_ her soul had shouted against the darkness.

 _Fight_ Amaya’s soul had growled with her.

The darkness did not stand a chance, and in its wake, Light shined upon her soul and _judged_.

Khessa’s description of her ascension, spoken to her many years ago, comes immediately to mind now that she has experienced it herself.

 _“Connecting to the Sun...is akin to standing at the edge of an endless inferno. You are but a lone, insignificant speck amidst the fire. Your life, your power, all that you are or ever will be is_ meaningless _to the Light.”_

It is strange to think on those words now, for her own experience had been different. Her vision had not been of an eternal inferno; to her, the Sun had shown her soul.

And Amaya’s.

Cracked, jagged things their souls are, forever scarred by their losses. The “inferno” of her vision had come in the form of fire pouring from those wounds; wounds that multiplied, the fires growing until their souls were consumed entirely.

The Sun had shown Khessa her own frailty in response to her arrogance.

The Sun had shown _her_ the price that she may pay for allowing herself to be kind. For opening herself to love and all the pain it can bring. It is a funny thing, in a way, as Khessa had said something similar the night she declared that she would be joining the military.

_“I suppose it is for the best. You have a kind soul, Janai. One that is ill-suited for the throne. So go, and do not worry yourself about leaving me. Remaining here, doing as mother wishes, would only stifle your spirit, and you know I hate to see you suffer so.”_

Khessa always did know her best.

Sitting up, she covers her face with her hands. She does not want to think of her sister, of the last words they shared and the many they will never share again. She does not want to remember her fading into the wind, or how she was powerless to do anything but watch.

But it is difficult when she is in Khessa’s chambers, sleeping in Khessa’s bed, and surrounded by Khessa’s scent.

‘ _The_ queen’s _chambers. I am the queen, now.’_

In the pale light of the morning sun, she examines the chambers that are now hers.

Now, and always before, she cringes at the overly white and gold color palette of the room. Never had she felt comfortable here, feeling too bright and out of place with her red hair and red outfits; with her dirt stained shirts and scuffs on her boots from training.

She isn’t surprised to find that she feels no less out of place as the Queen than she did as a child. The only difference is that the room is Khessa’s rather than her mother’s.

Khessa’s favorite jacket, almost too heavy for Lux Aurea’s climate, hangs off the back of the vanity chair because her sister never cared to hang it properly.

Khessa’s favorite throw blanket, midnight blue and lined with gold accents, is scrunched up on the couch where she often sat to read. She cannot see it, but she knows it has a tear on one of the corners, where it caught on their mother’s crown when they were children.

On the table is a mess of papers and an inkwell that is long dry. Paperwork, her sister often commented, is the true curse of royalty. Second only to listening to certain nobles prattle on. Next to the chair, Khessa’s favorite slippers are slightly askew, as if she kicked them off in order to walk around barefooted as was her habit.

If one were to look at this room, one would think that Khessa has only just left.

If one were to look at this room, one could believe that she will walk right back in at any moment.

A scream tries to claw its way out of her throat, and she is on her feet and racing to the nearest door. She doesn’t care that she is still in her ceremonial robe, or that she has no shoes. Nothing matters but getting out of _Khessa’s_ room.

 _‘I can’t._ I can’t. _Not now. I’m not ready!’_

Rushing through the door, she slams it shut behind her and falls against it. It _hurts_ , and she feels like she’s back in the tower, standing under the Sun’s light and watching fire burn the wound where her love for her sister - _for her parents and grandparents as well_ \- has cut into her heart. Sliding down into an ungraceful heap, she hugs her knees and drops her head on top of them.

It’s her own fault, she knows. So desperate to avoid the grief gnawing at her mind, she refused to step foot in the queen’s chambers after returning from the Spire. And now she is queen, and the remnants of her dear sister are all around her.

So busy trying to catch her breath, to fight the tears and the pain, she doesn’t notice there is another present until something touches her arms. She jerks back instinctively, her head hitting the door with a thud that is as loud as it is painful. The shock of it, however, is enough to calm her mind.

Blinking rapidly, she takes in the short black hair, pale skin, and gentle brown eyes staring down at her.

“Amaya.” The name falls off her lips between gasps, more prayer than statement.

There’s a flash of...something -surprise?- on Amaya’s face, but it is wiped away with a soft smile. Before she can say anything else, Amaya drops to her knees and twists so she can fall beside her.

She offers no objections to the company, or the arm that slips around her waist, or the head that rests on her shoulder. Amaya has already seen the depth of her grief; at the instant her heart broke, and when they faced judgement. She may not know the name or the story behind Amaya’s loss, but their scars are the same. What is there left to hide? Pride has its time and place, but this is not it.

They sit there for some time, content in each other’s company as the room brightens with the rising sun. Strange, that Amaya is in this particular room; in the consort’s chamber. Judging by the tousled hair and wrinkled clothes -the same outfit she was wearing at the ceremony- she must have been brought here instead of her normal room.

It makes little sense, but she is far too exhausted to even put up a fight when Amaya tugs at her in a silent bid to join her in bed, much less question her presence here.

_‘Oh, if Khessa could see me now.’_

To spare a human’s life is one thing, but to share a bed with one? Her sister would have dragged her to the temple and demanded she have her head examined. She almost laughs at the thought, but she does not want Khessa in her mind right now. Eventually, she will think of her sister without her heart shattering further. Right now, she would rather stop thinking at all in favor of climbing into the consort’s bed with the human that was once her prisoner.

The duvet is a deep burgundy, unlike the pale yellow of Khessa’s.

The pillows are fluffy black instead of gold.

There are no stray blankets, papers, or clothes. This room holds nothing that has meaning to her, and she feels her pain ease in the impersonal environment.

Amaya breaks the somber mood as only a person as irritating as her can; she flops onto her side of the bed with a grunt. Not that she doesn’t understand the sentiment; if she, a Sunfire of royal blood, is aching after the ceremony, what must Amaya, a _human_ , be feeling?

She raises an eyebrow and pretends that she is exasperated about the ungraceful flop instead of worried.

Amaya catches the look, gestures over her entire body -the action done ponderously slow- and pouts.

Heaving a great sigh, she rolls back off the bed. Though she has never had reason to explore the Consort’s chambers, all the royal family has a private stock of medicines and drinks. The Consort is no different, given their proximity to the queen. The small, inconspicuous wooden cabinet opens with the slightest touch. Rows of unlabeled bottles sit upon the shelves, but she is quick to grab a small orange bottle and toss it over her shoulder.

She does not worry that Amaya will not notice or catch it; the weight of her gaze never left her back.

She does not worry that Amaya will refuse the potion; the trust they share may be new, but has been forged by battle, grief, and the Sun itself.

That said, she does not worry when Amaya abruptly chokes, coughing horribly and holding out the potion as far away from her as possible; she is well aware that the potion tastes like ash dumped in overly fermented liquor.

“Fearless general indeed,” she says under her breath.

Amaya is glaring at her through her coughing-induced tears. Whether she understood her words or not there is no way to tell, but her own satisfied expression says more than enough; Amaya responds by signing something she does not know the exact meaning of but assumes is rude, then promptly downs the potion in one swift motion.

She cannot help but smirk at the renewed coughing as she climbs back into bed, shaking her head. “What was it you said the other day? Ah yes, what is a harmless joke between friends?”

The reaction she gets is not the one she expects. Instead of a huff, crossed arms, a pout, or even a rolling of eyes, Amaya freezes, staring at her in shock.

Belatedly, she realizes that this is the first time that she has ever declared them friends out loud. Suddenly self-conscious, she scowls and, failing to fight a blush, looks away. “Well? What _else_ could we be, after all we have been through?”

After fighting side by side in a desperate battle.

After working together to begin rebuilding Lux Aurea and bridge the gap between humans and elves.

After seeing the truth of their souls laid bare before each other and the Sun.

Amaya sighs, but when she deigns to look over at her, the expression on her face is...affectionate.

Embarrassed, she falls against the sheets and throws out her hand to activate the light rune on the bedpost. The room instantly plunges into darkness as the windows become solid; a clear signal that the “conversation” is over. Amaya is slower to follow suit, and when she does, she settles right at her side. It’s entirely unnecessary to lie so close when the bed can fit four elves comfortably, but she is far too tired to argue.

She will never admit it, but as she dozes off, part of her savors Amaya’s comforting presence. It won’t be long, after all, before the General leaves Lux Aurea -leaves _her_ \- and returns home.

Forever.

**~Kazi~**

Life had once been normal. Days filled with reading and studying. Occasional interactions with fellow students. Relaxing nights in their apartment or visits to home. A calm, normal life they were comfortable with; a life they never particularly wanted more out of.

But that was a month ago.

Now, instead of books on ancient history, there are stacks of books and treatises on royal etiquette, military structure, and sign language piled near their bed.

Instead of jovial meetings with their peers, they sit in on meetings pertaining to Xadian security and border security. They help form and write communications with the human kingdoms of Katolis and Duren. They travel through the city, collecting reports on the rebuilding efforts.

Instead of spending the nights curled up with a book or their family, they are at the side of the human general from dawn to after dusk. Most of their -now very late- dinners are spent with the same woman.

And the Queen.

Everything is different now. They even _live in the palace_.

Granted, not permanently. Their official position is interpreter for General Amaya, who is only staying in Lux Aurea until the -sort of- human troops are released back to their kingdoms.

Amaya is not only close to her Radiance, but also has a habit of poking her nose into the general affairs of Lux Aurea. Mostly out of boredom, as she isn’t required to spend the entire day checking on the prisoners. Her Radiance indulges Amaya’s curiosity without fail; mostly, they think, because explaining it to another helps _her_ make sense of some of the stranger situations that must be dealt with in the wake of the Dark Mage’s attack. Amaya can also be counted on for impartiality, or to ease the queen’s stress by suggesting a creative -often violent- solution to her problems.

The _advisors and soldiers_ indulge Amaya’s curiosity because they are under the impression that she is the Queen Consort.

The fear of how a rumor of this magnitude could affect the fragile, tentative peace between elves and humans -between Amaya and Janai- saw Kazi stressing over how to gain control of this situation.

Never in their life did they imagine their future to involve manipulating the rumor mill and the people around them -most ranking far, far higher, than themselves- in order to keep _that_ rumor from reaching the ears of the two involved. It is a feat managed solely because Janai herself is known for having refused the title of princess in favor of being called the Golden Knight. With “queen consort” being a position that requires no skill to obtain, few question them when they insist that “general” is the title preferred by Amaya.

Only a few times was the situation was questioned: when Amaya was moved to the Consort’s chamber overnight, when the advisers began treating her with unusual deference, and when those in the city began bowing as they would to a royal or noble. 

Without fail, they would turn to _them_ for an explanation.

_“As the only human in Lux Aurea, perhaps they thought it safer?”_

_“Well, they have likely noticed how you value her opinion, and you_ are _the queen.”_

_“Uh. That is. You see. The General’s role in purifying the Sun was....not insignificant to the people?”_

Though it would help their efforts if Amaya stopped acting so _flirtatious_ with her Radiance. They can only be glad that Janai has a reputation for being stern and intolerant of disrespect. None possess the bravery to attempt bantering with her about her “consort,” or treating Amaya with less than proper respect due a proven warrior.

It’s wise of them, as Janai’s temper is hardly improved with the stress of ruling.

“Do you think Janai will let me buy a dagger if I bring her snacks?”

“I think there is very little her Radiance will deny you. Though I suppose a bribe does not hurt.”

Amaya mulls over their words, a faint smirk on her lips. “Very little?”

“Within reason!” they insist, already dreading how the unruly human will test the limits of the queen’s patience today. Playing interpreter to the arguments - _and flirtations_ \- between Amaya and Janai is an uncomfortable position to be in for too many reasons to count.

“Ah, General Amaya, Adviser.” Rakin, the best weaponsmith in Lux Aurea, steps out of his storeroom and greets them with a smile. Formalities between them are relaxed, as they are frequent visitors to his shop. Rakin is, after all, in charge of crafting the restraints for the prisoners.

Despite the best efforts of their mages, the spell that the Dark Mage placed upon his army could not be fully reversed, and the degree to which the spell faded was specific for each human. Their skin, while appearing normal from afar, cannot hide the now fainter reticulated glow of their permanent heat-being state; a glow that changes intensity depending on their mood. Their eyes, too, remain the unnerving black and red, forever marking them as invaders of Xadia.

But, at the very least, they have their sanity back.

“There were a few complications, but we’ll have the chains ready on time,” Rakin assures them. His haggard appearance belies his words, however.

“What kind of complications?”

He grimaces. “Supplier delays, and an emergency request from the flooded sector. I can hold off on the request.”

Amaya is shaking her head before Rakin can continue. The General remains adamant that the work for the prisoners is never put before work for Lux Aurea’s rebuilding efforts. The prisoners have food, water, and shelter. That’s more than some Sunfire have, after the attack.

“How long will prioritizing the builder’s order delay the chain delivery?”

“Fifteen days, General.”

All of them wince. Fifteen days is not an insignificant delay; not when changing plans now will require several hasty letters sent to Duren and the Battalion, as well as rearranging the queen’s very busy schedule.

“How much of the stock is complete?” Amaya signs thoughtfully.

Rakin rubs his chin and does some quick mental math, mouthing numbers soundlessly. That the smith, who is usually organized to a frightening degree, cannot answer them offhand speaks to his troubles more than his ragged appearance does. “After today, we’ll have half the order done.”

“Very well. I think we can work with that. I will speak with Janai about it tonight.”

They hesitate over speaking the queen’s name aloud. It feels disrespectful to be so casual with her Radiance, even if they are merely giving voice to Amaya’s own words. They are a _scholar_. One of no social standing. They have no right to stand in the queen’s presence, much less use her name so freely, or say things like “normally I enjoy a stubborn woman, but if you send me to the healers one more time I will throw you again” or “those are brave words coming from someone I kicked off a roof” or “it’s not my fault you’re cute when you blush” or “as often as you grab me, someone might think you like touching me.”

It has gotten to the point where the soldiers and advisers spend most of the meetings giving them _extremely_ sympathetic looks.

“You truly have an idea that would help Rakin?” they ask after the necessary reports are gathered and Rakin is allowed to return to his work.

“It’s something I have thought of before. I want to send the prisoners from Katolis first, because Del Bar and Evenere are still unstable. If negotiations with them are proceeding as slowly as Aanya implied, we might not be capable of sending their troops as planned.” Amaya shakes her head in frustration, frowning as always when the topic of the human kingdoms is brought up.

The assassinations of two rulers, and the critical injury of a third, has left the human realm in chaos. The loss of the greater portions of the kingdom’s armies does not help matters, and the fact that said armies are now half-human and being held prisoner in Xadia is another complication entirely.

Katolis itself is in little better shape; though there is no issue of succession, the bulk of their main army had marched to Xadia with the Dark Mage. That the invading army was led by Katolis has put King Ezran in an awkward position with the other kingdoms, and many worry that violence will spark in the wake of the rumors of betrayal that are taking root among the citizens.

The only thing preventing outright anarchy is Queen Aanya. The young queen was quick to start damage control with the other kingdoms, releasing several proclamations concerning the events that transpired within Katolis and Xadia that led to the Battle of the Spire. It had the effect of drawing most of the ire to Duren, who, unlike the other kingdoms, has a mostly undiminished army standing at the ready. Forces that once patrolled and protected the border were relocated to the other side of the kingdom, leaving it clear that Duren trusts Xadia more than their own kind.

Many a dinner is spent with her Radiance and Amaya discussing the affairs of the human kingdoms; debating the likelihood of war, whether or not the kingdoms will accept their cursed soldiers, and ways to support Queen Aanya.

“General. Adviser,” the prison guards greet respectfully, moving aside to allow them to pass.

“Have there been any problems today?” Amaya asks, nonchalantly handing a bag of snacks to both guards while they interpret.

Her present is accepted with eager smiles, and her question is answered with a shake of their heads. “Only the usual suspects. Many of the others remain listless.”

Listless is a kind description of the prisoner’s mood. Many have sunk into a depression after having their sanity returned, staring at their hands in horror or curling up in the corner of their cells and refusing to eat or drink. A select few took to shouting themselves hoarse, cursing the guards, dragons, or Xadia in general. Those prisoners were swiftly moved to solitary cells, away from their depressed countrymen.

Cell after cell, prisoners watch them walk by without comment or expression. Being here is unnerving; far more so than it had been the first time they were led to the fire cells.

Interesting, how the prisoner they were once led to is now the one leading them into the depths.

A handful of the higher-ranking prisoners have taken it upon themselves to speak for the soldiers as a whole, mainly to repeatedly demand news of their homes. Amaya’s reputation as a peerless warrior is known even to the non-Katolians, which has gone a long way to scaring them into cooperation, if not obedience.

Kazi has no such reputation; a fact all forget until today, when a prisoner interrupts the conversation with a Katolian lieutenant.

“What does it even matter?”

All of them turn to the prisoner sitting with their back against the bars.

“Who cares what happens back home? Do you really think they would accept monsters like us?”

It’s immediate, unthinking, their response. “Why would they not?”

The prisoner rushes to her feet, veins of fire glowing brighter, and reaches through the bars, catching them in her grasp and dragging them forward. “Why? WHY? Because we aren’t even _human_ anymore!”

All thought processes shut down, their world narrowing to the fist holding their shirt and the blazing eyes staring them down. They squeak in surprise and fear, holding up their hands in a useless placating manner while sputtering mindlessly. “I. That is. You. You. Uh. But you still have five fingers! And, uh, round ears?”

The prisoner’s glare is momentarily broken when she blinks, taken aback, but it does not last long. “Is. That. A. _Joke_?” she growls dangerously, slowly dragging them forward until they’re pressed against the bars to emphasize her words.

“What? No no no. I mean. What else makes you human?” They’re certain they’re going to die, certain that their last vision will be of glowing red eyes set in the face of a brown-skinned Katolis woman.

Hysterically, part of them notices how the woman’s fire veins glow strangely with her anger. She must be one of the few whose soul almost fully resisted the reversal spell. With every breath, every second, the glow changes.

Darker, brighter, darker, brighter, darker, darker...almost...gone?

“You’re an idiot,” the human declares. With a sigh, the pressure holding them against the bars is eased and their shirt released. The human turns back around and drops to the floor again, energy spent with her anger.

Only when an arm slips around their waist to hold them up do they remember that there are other people present. They lean against Amaya gratefully as they take note of how their body is shaking and their heart is racing. Physical violence has never been their forte.

“My heart is literally a fireball and you say my _ears_ make me human. Of all the stupid…” The rest of the woman’s grumbling is too low for them to understand, but what they heard is enough to make them blush anyway.

And because they are, in fact, some sort of idiot, they respond with, “Technically, as fire is the representation of the sun, and the sun both takes and gives life, it is considered a blessing to carry a Heart of Fire.”

A great many pairs of eyes are suddenly centered on them, the woman that attacked her included. Next to them, Amaya smacks her forehead with her free hand.

“Those with the Heart of Fire are known to be courageous, passionate, and unbending. Human or Sunfire matters not; those qualities must exist within you, for the spell to resonate so deeply with your soul.” They’re rambling. They _know_ they’re rambling, and nothing they’re saying has been proven by the mages.

But over the days and weeks of visiting the humans with Amaya, it is a conclusion they have unconsciously accepted as true. How could it not be, when Amaya, a human herself, had stood before the Sun and blazed with an inner fire only matched by their queen?

“You may be feared or hated for your appearance, but that has been true of all peoples, of all kingdoms, for all of known history. Whether or not such treatment breaks you, however, is entirely your own decision. After all, you carry a sun in your heart, and the sun requires no permission to rise.”

Their final words, a common Sunfire saying, echo in the deathly silent prison.

None speak to argue. Not then, and not when Amaya gently leads them out into the light.

“And you say I’m reckless?”

“I did not mean to! I panicked!”

Amaya shakes her head and shrugs as if to say “what can you do?” Still, there is something that resembles _pride_ in her eyes, and when they report to her Radiance that night, she ignores a proper greeting in favor of declaring that their audacity has rubbed off on their “dear interpreter.”

Janai takes one look at the burn marks on their shirt and promptly demands an explanation. There isn’t much to say, even with Amaya’s added remarks concerning their apparently amusing behavior.

“At least the only injury was to your tunic.”

“Janai will buy you a new one,” Amaya adds, nudging her Radiance insistently before they can interpret and gesturing repeatedly between the two of them.

Janai, needing no interpretation for _that_ comment, nods in agreement. “I will have the tailor meet with you. ...Both of you. Perhaps it will distract him from my current lack of “proper” royal attire.”

They pull at their tunic nervously. Though their first instinct is to argue against such graciousness, their mind is on something else. _Someone_ else. “Ah, speaking of clothing matters, I think it may be...beneficial to give the prisoners new clothes. Those most affected by the spell, anyway.”

Amaya and Janai both raise an eyebrow.

“I simply...noticed that her, _their_ , clothes are burned or fraying. I do not think human made material can withstand the heat they give off.”

Instead of dismissing their suggestion, the two women exchange startled looks.

“...I had not thought of that,” Janai says slowly. “But you are not wrong. If the human soldiers are permanently altered, then there _are_ certain considerations we must now look into.”

Conversation flows from there, easily and comfortably until late in the night. There may be too much work and too little time, but these stolen moments of peace are precious all the same.

And so, while this may not be the life they imagined, they are content in knowing that here in this room, with the queen and a human general for company, they are not alone in that feeling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kazi really just said "THEY THINK YOU'RE NEAT" because they're too embarrassed to say "you're sort of kind of maybe unofficially married."
> 
> This will have no consequences whatsoever. Nope.


	4. Change (Callum)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amaya is starting to suspect there may be more to her feelings for Janai than simple friendship.
> 
> Whatever Callum is expecting from his visit to Lux Aurea, it is DEFINITELY NOT THIS.

_At the top of the Storm Spire, the entire world ceases to exist. There are only the clouds below and the sun high above._

_And two queens, standing at the edge of the Spire, staring out into the empty world before them._

_“How strange a world I woke to. Humans and elves, bridging the gulf that stood between our worlds, and fighting side by side against the very menace that humans were driven away for.”_

_She sighs, unable to understand the optimism the Dragon Queen speaks with. Or perhaps she is too tired after several sleepless nights to summon such blind faith. “One battle cannot change the world.”_

_Zubeia chuckles. “Oh, do not doubt that the battle changed many hearts, but the first steps toward peace were not made on the battlefield. They were made when an assassin and two princes chose to save my baby. ...And when a Sunfire trusted a human.”_

_Thinking of generations of hatred, of wars and separation, she is not so sure. The children spoke of many who refused to believe that they were working together, and the only reason Amaya lived is because Khessa is -was- her sister. Perhaps those who fought in defense of the Dragon Prince did have a change of heart, but what guarantee is there that it will last? What guarantee is there that those not involved will accept that their old beliefs are false?_

_What guarantee is there that peace is possible?_

_“But is it enough?” she asks softly._

_“Alone? No. Peace is a process, a_ fight _that never truly ends. Every day, you must choose it. Every day, you must ask yourself if it is worth it.”_

_“How could it not be?” she says automatically, thinking of humans helping Sunfire, of King Ezran playing with Azymondias, of the young mage boy hopelessly in love with the Dragonguard, of the Kingsguard Soren feeding dragons portions of his meals, of Sunfire and human protecting each other in battle, and lifting each other up after._

_Of the General, eyes burning with a fierce desire to protect, throwing herself into danger to help her supposed enemy, smiling at her, and grasping her hand without hesitation._

_“Hmm. I must confess, I am relieved that, for all that the blood of your ancestors runs strong in your appearance, you will clearly be a queen of a different mold.”_

_She flinches at the title. The pain of losing Khessa is still fresh, and she has so far refused to dwell on the responsibilities that await her when she returns to her people. She will be the first to admit that she is not prepared for the throne that is now hers. “...I was never meant to be the queen. Nor did I ever want to be. I don’t know how to rule as my sister, mother, and grandmother did.”_

_Finally, Zubeia turns to her. “And that is why I believe you_ are _the right elf to be queen. If there is to be any chance for peace in the future, Lux Aurea does not need another Aditi; it needs a Janai. Peace cannot be achieved by treading the same ground that saw Xadia split. Only the truly strong and fearless can forge their own path, and you have already started on yours.”_

 _It strikes her, then, that this is the first time anyone has ever told her that she would be a worthy queen. She has always been too short-tempered, too kind, too_ weak _to live up to the legacy of her foremothers._

_‘Practice with your sword, for you will never be clever with your words.’_

_‘Learn to obey your sister, for you will never be capable of making decisions with a clear head.’_

_“Become a warrior, for you will never be queen.’_

_Those voices that she has heard all her life, voices that she has_ believed _all her life, fade from her mind, and she finds that the peace it brings her is…_

_Liberating._

‘Perhaps I _will_ fail to honor my legacy. So be it. It seems I have already decided what sort of queen I want to be.’

**~Amaya~**

Routines have always been important to Amaya. Not extravagant routines, but little things like stretching every morning before eating breakfast, or ending every night with a cup of tea. When all the world around her changes, she can always rely on those small things to find her balance.

Living in Lux Aurea is no different.

Her mornings start long before the sun rises, with a pounding heart, sweat soaked sheets, and body trembling from fear and adrenaline. Nightmares haunt her in the night, torturing her with visions of a world where she failed.

Sometimes she dreams that Kasef killed Callum, or that Claudia killed Ezran, or that Viren killed them both. She weeps in those nightmares, sobs over their broken bodies in the middle of a bloodstained battlefield and begs Sarai and Harrow for forgiveness because _she had promised to keep them safe_.

Sometimes she dreams that she is on her knees before Khessa, the primal stone burning her inside and out, until there is nothing left but an empty world devoid of sound and sight. She does not weep from those dreams, but wakes up in cold terror and immediately lights up the entire room, desperate to make _sure_ that her eyesight has not been taken from her.

Lately, she also dreams...of Janai. Dreams of watching her strain against the corrupted sun, the darkness and the fire crackling in the room. Dreams of the moment when _that_ look had crossed her face; the one of resignation. Of acceptance.

Of _death_.

She had known then, in that moment, that Janai would die. She had complete faith that the elf would succeed in her goal -she was far too stubborn not to- but at the cost of her life. She makes the same choice in her dream as she had in life; to run to her side, to support her somehow someway because, unexpectedly, Janai had become _important_ to her.

In reality, she was enveloped by the power of the stone, was tied to a soul so fierce, and passionate, and kind, yet _hurting_ that she did not hesitate to put her entire life on the line in order to protect it. They _saw_ each other, empowered each other, fought the darkness together, and then the Sun shined. It burned, challenged her presence, her spirit, her will, her loyalty to Janai. It had no voice, yet it demanded to know why she thought herself worthy of its blessing. Worthy of Janai.

She wasn’t worthy. She knew that. She was only human, after all. But she didn’t care, because _she wasn’t going to lose someone else_. Not again. No matter the cost.

The fire raged, but her will was iron, and it settled into her heart and soul, acknowledging her worthiness.

Of what, she still does not understand.

Her nightmares are much simpler. She runs to Janai when she sees the look that the queens of Duren wore before they rode to their death, and the corruption throws her back, past a pillar, into the open air beyond. She falls and falls and falls, and Janai’s soul, _all_ of Lux Aurea, is swallowed by darkness.

Those are the mornings when she has to rest her head against the door to Janai’s room, reminding herself that neither of them failed, Janai is here and she is well and everything is _fine_ now.

Seeking to ease the lingering stress of her nightmares, she eventually sets herself to making use of the personal kitchen that she shares with Janai -the queen and consort essentially have a private house within the palace- and digging through the ungodly amount of food for something that doesn’t require cooking. Janai will sometimes roll out of bed early enough to help her, but depending on how much of a smartass she has been the day before, accepting her friend’s food recommendations can be risky.

When Janai isn’t there to cook something simple, she settles for a cup of tea and sweetened bread. Food acquired, she heads out to the balcony. A dark red couch that’s nearly as comfortable as her -too large- bed and a surprisingly simple black metal table are the only pieces of furniture on the balcony. It’s the glowing vines along the edge of railings and the long planters filled with shimmering flowers that give it character.

Always, Janai will join her. It is here where they truly relax, where they are not queens or warriors or burdened by trauma and grief. Sipping tea in their pajamas, they learn to speak to one another as the city sleeps, idly working through the basics of Sunfire runes or the Sunfire sign language alphabet. The Sun glows above Lux Aurea, a steady, reliable light that makes the golden city shine even at night, keeping them warm until the true sun rises over the horizon.

And when the sun rises, so too must the Queen and the General.

Yawning, she stares at the clothes hanging in the closet that is practically a small room, it has so much space. It’s odd, how she came to Lux Aurea with nothing but the clothes on her back, yet now has nearly as many Sunfire outfits as she does regular outfits at home. Some outfits were bought during the first weeks of her stay, but most were provided by the royal tailor, who had been...disconcertingly enthusiastic about the order to provide “the General and Adviser Kazi” with clothes worthy of their status.

 _That_ had not been a fun day. They had spent several hours being poked, prodded, measured, and grilled on their preferences. The end result was worth it, however, as several days later saw Kazi and her both receiving half a dozen new tunics, pants, boots, and various accessories; all more elegant and expensive than anything she has ever owned in her life. Or everything she currently owns back in Katolis combined.

But that was only the _start_ of the deliveries. Since then, she has received enough tunics and pants to go an entire month without ever wearing anything more than once, a collection of shoes ranging from casual slippers to true fireproof soldier boots, seven different types of capes, and several pairs of gloves.

She tries not to think about what all this costs, but Janai never speaks a word concerning repayment; she only ever made a point to mention that if she requires anything specific, she need only ask.

Today, she picks the long, sleeveless dark red tunic. While technically simple, the golden edges and belt have small half-suns of the same design engraved on the walls of the palace stitched in red. What makes the tunic truly unique is the golden sun sewn above her heart, with its rays stretching across the front of her tunic. The gold material shimmers yellow and red in the sun, catching the eye from across the room.

It had certainly caught Janai’s attention, the first time she wore it.

Janai had been waiting outside their rooms, as was their new routine, when she walked out, still adjusting the collar. Her friend had frozen, staring at the sun on her tunic with so little expression that she may as well have been in a trance, and, slowly, lifted her hand to rest lightly on the sun.

Confused and worried, she tried to remember if the symbol had any particular meaning. Was it wrong to wear it? The symbol was on all of her outfits, but this was the only tunic that bore it so brazenly. Should she change? The only one who could answer her was lost in her own mind, so she did the only thing she could think of: she grabbed Janai’s hand.

Jumping at the touch, Janai pulled her hand away and blushed. After an awkward moment, she sighed and, using her limited knowledge, managed to sign two words.

Fire heart.

_Heart of fire._

She didn’t press for more information than that; she remembered facing the judgement of the Sun, remembered the fire - _the power_ \- that surged into her heart and soul. As Kazi tells it, they both glowed as bright as the Sun itself at the end of their judgement, blinding the entire city when their worthiness had been proven.

 _“To have a “heart of fire” is traditionally a common phrase to indicate stubbornness, or those with heat abilities,”_ Kazi had explained when she mentioned it, _“but after the ritual, it has also become a title. In a way. The ones with hearts of fire is how some refer to the queen and yourself. Though most prefer simply The Suns.”_

It became her favorite tunic after that. She has always been proud of her rank as general, but the way the Sunfire so readily accept her, respect her, and consider her equal to their _queen_ is...unexpectedly thrilling.

But it also raises many questions that she is pretty sure Kazi holds the answers to. Her nervous “adviser” is always quick to change the subject when she even vaguely refers to the strange respect that the Sunfire treat her with, which is suspicious, to be sure, but she’ll get the answers she needs _eventually_.

With the tunic, matching forearm sleeves, golden arm bands, loose black pants, and short boots, she is nearly indistinguishable from a Sunfire. Hopefully, the inferno tigers they’re visiting today agree, and don’t maul her on sight.

“Ready?” Janai signs when she steps out of her room.

 _Signs_. Not speaks. The movements are hesitant, not quite smooth as a practiced speaker’s would be, but it is _her_ language -well, the Sunfire version of her language- and seeing Janai make the effort to communicate with her properly never fails to make her heart skip.

It shouldn’t. It _really_ shouldn’t. For all that she enjoys flirting with Janai, she mostly does it to make her -and Kazi- embarrassed. But the way she continuously finds something new to admire about Janai, the way being at her side feels less and less like a happy accident of circumstance and more like something inevitable, something like... _fate_ , is dangerous.

“Ready,” she responds.

Janai grins, her countenance much more relaxed than usual since they don’t have to face meetings or paperwork first thing in the morning. The prospect of seeing baby inferno tigers has her practically racing through the hallways. Kazi, being somewhat less than eager to face the notoriously temperamental creatures, stumbles along after them, rubbing their eyes and yawning sleepily.

She pats Kazi’s shoulder cheerfully, then signs, “Wake up. How often do you get to see your queen acting like a child?”

Kazi cringes, then yawns again. “What is so exciting about the chance of being eaten alive?”

She is about to respond when Kazi twitches and looks ahead at Janai. She doesn’t turn her head fast enough to catch all of her friend’s words, but she does manage to make out, “... nothing to fear. They do not attack those with a pure heart.”

Immediately, she thinks of the alarm and fear in Janai’s eyes when she first approached the strange yet intriguing creature after Viren’s attack. Being a prisoner, she had assumed that she would be riding with Janai, and had wanted to assess the creature before she entrusted it with her life. All movement around them had stopped, the heartbroken soldiers watching as the inferno tooth sniffed her outstretched hand. She hadn’t understood then what the fuss was about, nor did she understand what it meant to the Sunfire when Italu -the name of Janai’s mount, and a name that had Kazi scrambling back rather quickly when they heard it- licked her hand in acceptance. Nor did she care to ask, as she had been distracted by Janai’s obvious relief and subsequent comment that it would make it easier to keep an eye on her.

The urge to tease her friends by asking for the _exact_ definition of “pure” in this case rises and falls in the half a second it takes for Janai to finish speaking to Kazi, then give _her_ a smile; the rueful smile that is reserved for the times when Kazi’s -entirely baseless- self-doubt gets the better of them.

Janai continues on, unaware of her internal struggle, by slowing her stride and turning her entire body so they can see her sign, “It will be fun.”

Her heart skips at the sign language as usual, then skips again at the utter _cuteness_ of Janai’s struggle with the word “fun.” That she has to spell it out is likely due to her not knowing the sign for it, but it is not a word that she has ever used in their admittedly short acquaintance. She imagines that it’s a word the stern warrior rarely uses at all.

The fire in her heart sparks when Janai grins again, shooting warmth throughout her entire body.

Yes, she is certain something dangerous is happening here.

It’s just a shame that she has never been one to shy away from danger.

**~Callum~**

Strange how, two months ago, he was a normal prince. A _step_ prince. Being bullied by Soren, crushing on Claudia, and treating Ezran like a baby. Failing at everything he was supposed to learn, preferring his sketchbook and stories to history lessons and riding lessons.

Yet now, here he is. In _Xadia_. Connected to the sky arcanum. Having fought against elves, humans, dragons. Having been betrayed by those he trusted and saved by the one sent to kill his family. Having been witness to dragons, elves, and humans fighting together. _Healing_ together.

Flying high above Xadia on the back of Zubeia, the dragon queen, with Rayla, his Moonshadow elf and Dragonguard girlfriend, and Zym, the dragon prince, is like a dream come true, assuming his dreams had ever been this wild and amazing.

At any other time, he would be revelling in the experience.

But this is not any other time.

“She’s fine, right? She has to be. I mean, we’d know if she wasn’t, right? That Golden Knight seemed to get along with her just fine, and the other Sunfire elves liked her, so there’s definitely nothing to worry about. Do you think she’s fitting in? Do you think the prisoners are okay? I mean, they’re obviously _not_ , since they...aren’t exactly human anymore, but I mean. _Other_ than that. They’ll be fine with me, right? How could they not be? Sure, not _every_ Sunfire elf was at the battle, but how many other human mages are there? I’m sure they’ve heard of me. Maybe. Do you think-”

“Callum!” Rayla groans. “Please, shut up! And breathe. Or I swear we’ll push you off.”

Zym chirps a sulky agreement.

“Your crazy strong aunt is _fine_ ,” she continues. “The human prisoners are alive, or else we wouldn’t be watching over their _transport_ , and no one is going to kill you for being human. ...Probably.”

“...Oh, very reassuring,” he mutters sarcastically.

Rayla elbows him roughly, but further conversation is stalled when Zubeia drops beneath the clouds, revealing a golden city.

 _A golden city_.

“Whoa,” they both whisper.

He hadn’t known what to expect from the Sunfire city, but part of him had expected something similar to Rayla’s home. Small. Quaint. At one with nature.

Lux Aurea is the _exact opposite_.

A blinding light shines from the top of a tower at the center of the city. Surrounding it is a contained lake that feeds into the rivers that flow throughout the city. A level below it is a grand golden building that can only be the palace, and below that is the rest of the city. Everything is gold and white, and under the light of the sun and the light in the tower it _shines_.

Lux Aurea is exudes power and pride, which is honestly what he _should_ have expected from those aligned with the Sun.

When Zubeia angles down toward the palace, his stomach drops from more than the sudden dive.

‘ _It’s fine. I’m fine. I’m only going to meet with the queen of the Sunfire elves. It isn’t like I haven’t met her before. She seemed nice. Sort of. Okay she was mostly frightening, but she liked Aunt Amaya, so she has excellent taste in people, and she has a really cool tiger thingie, and a super amazing fire sword. And Queen Aanya seemed to like her, and_ she _doesn’t like_ anyone _. It’ll be great. Just great. Oh gods, I should have taken an extra bath or gotten new clothes or or_ something. _JUST LOOK AT THIS PLACE!’_

Specks staining the gold of the palace turn into people as they get closer. He can’t get a good look at the entourage until Zubeia lands, however, so it isn’t until his feet are safely on the ground that he realizes that he knows the leader of the welcoming committee.

“Aunt Amaya!” he shouts as he bolts to her for a hug, relieved nearly to tears that there is something familiar and reliable in this foreign place. It had been his own decision to stay at the Storm Spire -he was determined to learn everything he could from Ibis, and he wasn’t about to leave Rayla after all that happened- but here in his aunt’s arms he feels an almost painful pang of homesickness.

Though the pain might also be from Aunt Amaya’s tight grip.

When he’s put back on his feet and released -allowing the blood to rush back into his arms- he steps back and examines his aunt critically. After all his rambling about whether or not she was happy or healthy, there is really only one thing that he notices.

The reason he hadn’t recognized her from the sky is because...she looks like an _elf_.

No Battalion blues, no armour, no weapon or shield. Just lots of red and gold. The bright red tunic she’s wearing cinches at the waist, the center splitting below the white sash that serves as her belt to form a triangle that falls to her knees, with the rest of the tunic falling to her ankles. White sleeves stop at her elbows, and the shoulders have small strips hanging off them. Above her heart is a sun design stitched in the same attention grabbing bright gold of the stripe patterns on the edges of her tunic. The black pants, barely visible under the tunic, are loose and flowy, and red Sunfire runes run down the sides of the legs. Her mid-calf red boots and gold bracelets complete the look.

‘ _Regal_ ,’ he thinks immediately. With her outfit, her casual confidence, and the retinue of elves behind her, Aunt Amaya looks like royalty.

Like she _belongs_ here.

He’s practically vibrating from the desire to question his aunt about everything that has happened since she left the Storm Spire, but she takes his silence as the end of their greeting and turns her attention to Zubeia.

“Welcome to Lux Aurea, Queen Zubeia,” she signs. The elf interpreting next to her looks familiar. He thinks he recognizes him...her...them? Them from the meeting before the battle, though they never spoke. “We apologize for Queen Janai’s absence. She is surveying the reconstruction efforts outside the city.”

Zubeia shakes her head slowly. “No apologies are necessary. We are the ones who arrived two days early. The children were growing...restless.”

He doesn’t need to turn around to know that three pairs of eyes are centered on his back. So he may have been a _little_ anxious. Who can blame him?

“In fact, I believe I am the one who owes you both an apology _and_ a congratulations. For the Queen of Lux Aurea to take a Consort is a momentous occasion, but for the Consort to be a human? It is... _unprecedented_.”

His mind, heart, entire _world_ stops.

 _‘Did she say...consort? Consort. Like. Partner? Lover?_ Wife _?’_

“You. You’re. You’re ENGAGED?!” he shouts, hands flying to the sides of his head and pulling his hair. Gaping at Aunt Amaya, he slowly takes note of the strained smile and suddenly tense set of her shoulders, and realizes that she probably planned to tell him in private. This is big news after all, and she would have wanted to give him time and space to digest it all.

Which is ridiculous. Yeah, it’s a lot, but she’s _Aunt Amaya_. If she’s happy, then he’s even happier for her because his strong, amazing aunt deserves anything and everything she wants. Especially if what she wants is to marry the _queen of the Sunfire elves_. His aunt is going to be a queen! In XADIA!

Overcome with emotion, he throws himself at his aunt again, hugging her tightly before stepping back so she can read his lips. “This. Is. Awesome! When’s the ceremony?! Is there one? Ezran and Queen Aanya are coming, right? AHHH THIS IS THE GREATEST THING EVER!”

Aunt Amaya puts her hands on his shoulders and grips them lightly. She shakes her head, a soft smile on her lips as she waits for him to calm down before she drops her hands to speak. “Questions later,” she signs, eyes flitting over to the interpreter, who is covering their face with their hands for some reason. Had he embarrassed his aunt with his excitement? What a terrible first impression! But he’s allowed to be excited, isn’t he? Or do the Sunfire elves not like that sort of thing? Gah, there’s so much he needs to learn! “After you eat. And change.”

Suddenly very aware of the fact that he has been wearing the same outfit for months now, he squeaks and feels his face burn.

Everything after that is a blur. Zubeia and Aunt Amaya shoo them off to get settled in the palace, the elves leading them through the golden hallways silently. His urge to ask a million and one questions is buried under his racing thoughts concerning his aunt. Will she move to Lux Aurea entirely? Or will she spend time in Katolis with Ezran too? If she’s so close to Queen Janai, then she will be an invaluable link to Xadia and the Sunfire elves specifically. And what about the Standing Battalion? She’ll have to resign as general, but he can’t imagine the Battalion without its leader. Maybe she’ll suggest that they promote Gren. From what he’s heard, the lieutenant is already running the Battalion in Aunt Amaya’s stead, so it wouldn’t be that much of a change. Oh! Maybe she’ll take control of the base on the Xadian side of the border! Ezran had said in his last letter that the two bases were working together to build a proper crossing. What better place for the human Queen Consort of Lux Aurea than the first true bridge into Xadia?

“Are you alright?” Rayla asks nervously once they are led to their rooms and given privacy.

Blinking, he realizes that he has been silent throughout their entire walk to their rooms. Zym chirps his worry at him, reaching out to him from Rayla’s arms.

With a laugh and smile, he takes the baby dragon from his girlfriend. “I’m fine. It’s just. It’s a lot, you know? All my life, I thought Aunt Amaya hated elves. _Two months ago_ , I thought Aunt Amaya hated elves. But now she’s marrying one!” Which means he was wrong about her, and had probably lied for no reason at the Banther Lodge because if Aunt Amaya had so easily trusted her _captor_ , then would she have trusted Rayla had he just explained the situation? That’s...definitely something they’ll need to talk about later. “Of everything I expected to find here, a new family member definitely isn’t it. But it’s good! More than good! It’s amazing!”

Rayla stares at him, struggling to find the words she wants to say. She does that a lot, when she’s trying to tell him the truth without hurting him. Or when she’s talking about emotions in general, honestly.

“Are you worried that something is wrong? With it happening so fast.” she asks eventually, the hesitance clear in her tone.

He frowns at the question, thinking it over with all the seriousness it was asked. It’s a good question, and he can’t help but think he _should_ be worried at the sudden engagement. “...No. Aunt Amaya was really, truly happy when we landed. And the elves obeyed her without hesitation. Whatever happened here, I know that it’s what she wants. And that’s all that matters in the end. Though I _have_ to hear the story behind all-” he throws an arm out to gesture vaguely- “this.”

Rayla sighs in relief, and he remembers that _Janai_ had been the one to name her the last Dragonguard. It was unofficial at the time, but Rayla had taken that duty seriously, and the Sunfire elves all referred to her as “the Dragonguard” after the declaration. When Zubeia had woken, it was made official at Janai’s recommendation. He knows how much that means to her; to uphold her family’s legacy as a protector of Zym. It’s a role that fits her much better than “assassin” ever could.

Rayla may be a Moonshadow elf, but he’s pretty sure that Janai earned her undying loyalty for that single act; for trusting her in a way that Runaan and her own village refused to.

And what must it be like for her to see a fellow elf -a _queen_ \- that she looks up to marrying a human? To see that marriage accepted and blessed by the queen of dragons and an entire city of elves? It must be amazing, because _his_ heart hasn’t settled since finding out.

Taking her hand, he tugs her into a hug and kisses her cheek. Between them, Zym coos. “It looks like all that time I spent worrying about being murdered by vengeful Sunfire elves was pointless, since I’m _kind of_ related to their queen now.”

Rayla laughs and pushes him away. “Not that you’d know from your _smell_! Take a bath, and lets take that tour. I’ve never been to Lux Aurea before, but I’ve heard their food is to die for!”

The mention of the promised tour is enough to distract them all. Luckily, Aunt Amaya and the interpreter -who gives their name as Kazi- collects them within an hour. Zubeia had decided to take advantage of their early arrival and had gone to investigate their route beforehand, content with leaving them in the care of the Sunfire elves.

Lux Aurea is even more amazing up close than it is from the sky. The pathways in the upper sector are open and spacious, brimming with elves going about their lives. Small rivers run throughout the entire city, and there is more greenery than he expected. In spite of its opulence, there is something peaceful and soothing about the city.

Aunt Amaya, he notices, is given deference by any and every elf they pass. Soldiers stop to bow when they walk past, civilians watch them and give them space, and children wave at her, squealing and running off when she waves back.

Kazi doubles as their tour guide, giving them information about the history of the city, answering all their questions, and filling them in on the reconstruction efforts. Interspersed in the lecture are comments from Aunt Amaya; most of them personal anecdotes.

“I try to play with the children in the plaza once a week.”

“That business is run by the family of one of the palace servants. They’re very nice people.”

“We get a discount at that shop, because the owner’s daughter has a crush on Kazi.”

“The food at that restaurant is amazing, but be careful what you order. Their food is spicy.”

“That park has the best sunset view of the city. You should see it one of these days.”

“Street vendors are the lifeblood of the market district, and they have the _best_ snacks.”

“That vendor is where I get Janai’s favorite treats. They’re a useful bribe.”

 _‘She really loves it here,’_ he realizes. Aunt Amaya has always been warm, has always had a smile and hug ready for them, but _never_ has he seen her so relaxed. She left Katolis when his mom died, only ever tolerating weeklong visits every other month or so. All other times, she stayed at the Breach. But that also meant that she was almost always “the General.”

Here in Lux Aurea, she is just...Amaya.

They call her General, and she is their Queen Consort, but she is also _one of them_. She has made a place for herself among the people in a way that she never did in Katolis. Maybe in a way that she _refused to_ in Katolis. And he gets it, honestly. Losing his mom had wounded them both in a way that only time could heal. _Lots_ of time.

When Aunt Amaya had told him that she was transferring to the Breach, only a month after the fateful mission into Xadia, they hugged and cried and fell asleep together, but never did he try and argue with her. Had Ezran not been there, he’s pretty sure he would have begged to go with her, begged to get away from the city that held so many painful memories of his mother.

Maybe Aunt Amaya had known that. _“Look out for Ezran.”_ she had said back then. _“He will need a big brother to look up to.”_

It was hard, and he made too many mistakes to count, but he likes to think that he makes an alright big brother. Even if it feels like Ezran got all grown up without him even knowing.

And now it feels like Aunt Amaya changed without him even seeing it. Or maybe he just didn’t know her as well as he thought he did.

Their final stop on the tour is at a simple building. Only the hammer and anvil on the sign hanging next to the door tells them what to expect, and Aunt Amaya leads them in with a wide grin.

“You arrived earlier than planned, but I don’t think your surprise will mind.”

An extremely tall, extremely _muscled_ elf steps out from the back when the door slams shut behind him. The moment he spots them, however, his blank face is wiped away by a wide grin. “General Amaya! Adviser Kazi! We weren’t expecting you today!” The man’s voice booms in a way that nearly makes him vibrate inside, but there is nothing but warmth in his tone.

“Good evening, Rakin.” Aunt Amaya is practically shining with happiness, and he immediately categorizes him as a good friend. Even Kazi is more relaxed, and that one has been weirdly nervous during the entire tour. “The Dragonguard arrived early, but I don’t think our surprise will mind.”

Rayla, who is not-so-discreetly examining a pair of daggers on display, perks up at her title.

The “surprise” in question does not make them wait long. A familiar white haired elf appears from behind Rakin, gasping when he spots them.

“ _Rayla_? What are you doing here so soon?”

“What? Ethari!” Without waiting for a response, Rayla bolts _over_ the counter and hits Ethari with a violent hug.

Rakin laughs at her enthusiasm and steps around the counter to give the two some space. “The armour itself is complete,” he says to Aunt Amaya. “We’re only putting the finishing touches on it now.”

“Don’t tell her,” his aunt tells him with a mischievous smile. “Janai wanted it to be a surprise for the formal ceremony we’re holding for her before we send back the Katolis soldiers. A proper Dragonguard should have proper armour, she said.”

He laughs.

Laughs, and hugs his aunt so hard she grunts, and cries into her tunic because _Rayla deserves this_ and because he had been so, _so_ wrong about Aunt Amaya and he swears that he’s going to do better, _be_ better.

For Rayla. For Aunt Amaya. For Ezran.

Later that night, when he is alone with his aunt and has heard all about Lux Aurea, the Sunfire elves, and _Janai_ , he hugs his aunt for the millionth time that day and signs slowly, “Mom would have loved her.”

And Aunt Amaya smiles sadly, a hint of tears in her eyes as she signs back, “Yes, she really would have.”

**~Bonus~**

They’re going to die.

They’re _definitely_ going to die.

Kazi shudders, stares at Janai, at the _queen_ , and wishes they had written their will. Or taken the time to savor their last dinner. Or spoke with their sister one last time.

They open their mouth, then close it again.

Next to them, Amaya crosses her arms and taps a single finger against her elbow.

Fighting back a whimper, they take a deep breath, steel their courage, and interpret Amaya’s words. “As your Consort, what sort of jewelry should we be exchanging?” they say miserably.

Janai frowns at her paperwork, but doesn’t look up. “Bracelets or necklaces should suffice,” she says absently. “Horn adornments cannot be worn with the crown. Not that you have horns.”

Silence falls in the room again, and they wait for Janai to catch on.

It takes a good minute before she freezes, putting the paperwork down slowly as confusion hits. “What?”

They cough nervously, and Amaya raises an eyebrow.

Janai shoots up, her chair scraping across the floor. “WHAT?!”

They both refuse to answer, settling for watching the range of expressions that crosses Janai’s face.

Anger.

Confusion.

Slow understanding.

Dawning horror.

They can _see_ Janai replaying every word and action starting from the purification ritual to now, see how she finally realizes how the public came to such a misunderstanding, and how she accidentally encouraged the rumors to grow.

Janai covers her face with her hands -though not fast enough to hide how her eyes flash yellow from her struggle to contain her emotions- and swears so violently that they flinch back and take refuge behind Amaya.

“Queen Zubeia?” she asks after an infinity, her voice muffled by her hands.

“...Sends her congratulations and promises a proper gift,” they answer faintly.

Janai laughs brokenly. “How fortuitous that our engagement has received the blessing of the Queen of the Dragons. The most powerful and respected creature in Xadia. If only I had _known of my own engagement_ _beforehand_!”

In that last sentence is channelled all the fury that they expected from Janai, and the glare they are given is so deadly they expect to be lit on fire at any moment.

_‘I’m sorry mother, father, and sister. It seems I am going to die tonight.’_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> RIP Kazi
> 
> Callum's thoughts after he hears the news: "omg Aunt Amaya is worried about my opinion I'm going to set her at ease!"
> 
> What Amaya is actually thinking: ".........I'm.............what now?"


	5. Legacy (Rayla)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Janai is really getting tired of surprises.
> 
> Rayla gets one of her own.

_She thought she was done being surprised by Xadia, Janai, and the world in general._

_She really out to have known better._

_“So what you are saying is that Amaya and I have, in the eyes of all of Lux Aurea, been engaged since the purification ritual.”_

_Kazi flinches and wrings their hands, too nervous to remember to interpret. She forgives it tonight, as just about anyone would be unsettled when faced with an irritated Janai. Not her, of course, but most_ other _people. “Ah. No. As, ah, the General was proven worthy before the Sun, it was...unofficially agreed that the, uh, ritual itself served as the...marriage ceremony. There is no higher honor, after all, than being judged pure by the Sun.”_

 _“Oh,_ I’m aware _of that.” Janai snarls. Her tone must be as menacing as her expression, if it can make Kazi lean away like that._

 _So_ that _is why the parties in the city continued for days after the celebration._

_And why so many were eager to congratulate her when she made her rounds throughout the city._

_And why she was moved to the Consort’s chambers without warning._

_In fact, many things about her stay suddenly make perfect sense._

_Oh, what a situation they have found themselves in. Kazi may have kept it a secret from them, but they are too kind to have meant to do anything other than protect them. If she were any other person, and the situation was anything other than what it is, such an...accident would never have been a problem._

_But she_ isn’t _any other person. She is a human, and aunt to the king of Katolis. The first human to ever fight in defense of Lux Aurea. The first human to live with and gain the respect of the Sunfire._

 _And the situation is what it is; the first chance at peace in recorded history. Perhaps_ all _of history._

_A Sunfire queen marrying a human related to the king of Katolis is the best way to begin the long process of healing the wounds between Xadia and the humans. This can truly change the world, is the historic first step toward a future of peace for the entire continent._

_Which is unfortunate considering that the marriage that can change the world...doesn’t exist._

_They are not married._

_They are not engaged._

_They are friends at best. She may flirt, and Janai may be softer in her presence, but more than anything, they are simply two women struggling to find their balance in the face of an uncertain future. She trusts Janai with her life, knows that she is an honorable warrior and better woman, but that doesn’t mean she wants to_ marry _her._

_Trust isn’t the same as love, and she has never wanted to marry for anything less._

_Not that she has given much thought to marriage. Ever._

_Yet here she is, technically married and a symbol of peace and cooperation in all of Xadia and the human realm. Or will be, once word spreads._

_Sarai would have died laughing._

_They can’t change what has happened, but neither can they cancel the “marriage.” For the good of humans and elves, they have to pretend that this was their plan all along._

_Taking note of how there is a lack of true anger in Janai’s countenance, and how neither Sunfire has presented serious options to rectify the situation, it’s obvious that everyone in this room knows it._

_...Well, she supposes there are worse people to marry._

**~Janai~**

Two months ago, she thought that nothing could be more exhausting than the first day she woke up after Lux Aurea was attacked. Then she thought nothing could beat her exhaustion after the Battle of the Spire. Then the purification ritual took place, and she was certain that nothing could compare to _that_.

She ought to have known better.

Yesterday had started as just another day, if a little earlier than she preferred, as she had to duties to attend to outside the city. Reconstruction was moving along smoothly, Lux Aurea’s scars healing as its people worked to repair their home.

She had expected to come home to a late night meal with Amaya and Kazi, paperwork, and a list of unexpected problems that she will have to deal with the next day, not a _marriage blessed by Queen Zubeia_.

In hindsight, every sign had not only been there, but glowing brighter than the midday sun. Kazi’s...misdirection concerning their curiosity was no excuse not to know. She simply had never considered it a _possibility_. A human, accepted as Queen Consort? Her _having_ a Consort? Impossible things.

Except, apparently, not.

It was long into the night before her anger was spent, but though her day was long and her energy nonexistent, she finds herself unable to sleep. Yet again, she is put into a life-changing situation without warning. Yet again, she must take a position that she never once intended to. Yet again, she must sacrifice something of herself for the sake of her people.

 _“I hope you never become queen. The throne would swallow you whole, my sweet sister,_ ” a young, drunken Khessa once said. She hardly remembers the night, why Khessa was in such a state, or what they were arguing about, but she remembers those words. They had seared themselves into her mind, another strike against her suitability as one of royal blood. Always she presumed her sister was being callous; now she thinks that it may have been sadness behind her words. “ _It demands more and more and more of its queens, and you, so soft and foolish, will give and give and give until there is nothing left of you._ ”

How is it that, so many years later, her sister is proven right once again?

Groaning in frustration, she throws off her blankets and stalks out to the balcony. It is nowhere near sunrise, or even false dawn, but sleep will not find her this night. Of that she is certain.

And because nothing about her day is going as she wants it to, she opens the balcony door to discover that someone has already beat her to it.

“Huh? Oh ah! Queen. Highness. Er. Radiance! Uh. This is yours too? I mean. Uh. Obviously the second door had to-”

She stares at the boy, Callum, as he rambles, and wonders how this bumbling child is related to Amaya. He is very obviously nervous in her presence, seeming unable to stare at her directly. Quite unlike his aunt, who never seems to _look away_ from her. Amaya’s presence is near impossible to ignore unless she wishes it to be, and when she speaks to someone, they are given her undivided attention.

“You could not sleep,” she states, half as an observation, half as an attempt to quiet his unceasing rambling. If he continues to talk so much, she fears he will forget to breathe and pass out.

Callum flinches and turns to look out over the city. “...No.”

“Nightmares?” she guesses. From the way he lowers his head, her guess is correct. “...There is no shame in that. Healing takes time, and you went through an ordeal that many grown adults would have broken from.”

“Do you have them?” he asks quietly. In the dark of the night sky, he appears so very young and vulnerable, and she is vividly reminded of her own struggles after her mother died. She had not been much older than him when her mother was lost and Khessa took over the throne. She had felt so lost and alone back then, desperately wishing for someone to give her guidance.

No one had, and though she knows Callum has far more support than she ever did, she will not deny the boy the comfort she wishes she had at his age.

“Most nights,” she says honestly. “Of my sister. Of the Dark Mage. Of my city being destroyed, of the war, of the Sun swallowing my soul. Though I know that we prevailed in the end, the fear is not so quick to fade.”

Callum rests his hands on the ledge and leans against it. His gaze as he stares out into the city is heartbreaking. “I still see him. Kasef. Sometimes I see a flash of red, and I forget how to breathe. When my scarf brushes against my neck, I remember his hands around me, squeezing. After everything we went through, after all the creatures and enemies we faced, I _always see him_.”

Kasef, if she recalls correctly, was the larger monster. That one that had beaten her, and had nearly killed Amaya. She remembers her fear and anger vividly; remembers how she, a veteran of many battles, had fallen against his strength. Callum is no such warrior, is not experienced in the cold brutality of war.

In a better world, he would never have had to experience it at all, but this is not a better world.

Not yet.

“...It is a tradition among the Sunfire ranks to send newer recruits on hunting missions.” She closes her eyes, recalling a particular hunt from many, many years ago. From a time when she was innocent and unfamiliar with the pain of loss and love. “There was much debate about whether or not to allow me to take part in the tradition. Royalty has different standards, after all.”

Callum huffs and says bitterly, “Tell me about it.”

Smiling mirthlessly, she continues. “I insisted, of course. I did not want to be treated differently than the others. At the time, I did not want to be _royal_. It was well known that I was...ill-suited for the throne, and if I could not uphold my mother’s legacy, then I had no purpose. After much arguing on my part, and my sister’s, it was decided to allow me to join my unit’s hunting party.”

Here, she struggles to find words as Callum turns to her, eyes wide in both curiosity and fear. This is not an experience she has ever truly talked about in depth. To do so with her fellow soldiers would have been seen as a weakness as she is of royal blood, and her family had no interest in her pain. Had she tried, she would have received nothing but comments about her weakness, just as she had every time before.

“We were meant to hunt down a single oceri thought gone berserk, but when we tracked the beast to its den, we found ourselves surrounded by a full pack of them.”

Visions of sharp claws come to mind. The screams of her unit, and their blood spilling across the dirt are forever embedded in her memory. It is not the most violent death she has ever seen, but it was her first.

“We killed the pack, but of the eight of us sent, only two of us survived. We could not even retrieve the bodies, there was so little left of them.” She sighs and shakes her head. “We dragged ourselves to the outskirts of the city, covered in blood and entrails, and passed out. Those soldiers, they had been the closest things I had to friends in my entire life, and we could not even give them the dignity of a proper funeral. Our mission was deemed a success, but I only ever considered it a failure. For years after, I dreamed of that mission. I saw the claws of the oceri slicing me apart, saw my friends fall over and over again, drowning in their own blood while they accused me of abandoning them.”

She sighs again. Though it has been many years, the memories have not faded in the least. If she closes her eyes, she can stand in that field, bleeding from too many wounds, head spinning from a harsh blow, adrenaline rushing through her veins and fear making her desperate. Uzomu and Anisa would have escaped as well, but they decided that their duty to protect her, a royal, was more important than their own lives. A small part of her never quite forgave them for it, for she never considered her life to be worthy of such a sacrifice. Not then, and not now.

“That was a single battle, a handful of soldiers, yet that single experience scarred my soul much deeper than any other. Even now, when I am stressed, I inevitably dream of that mission again. We cannot predict how our experiences will affect us, Callum. Small things may leave a lasting impact, while bigger losses may be ignored. You cannot judge yourself for being affected by one near death experience after enduring many others. You can only take it one breath, one step at a time.”

Her words hardly make sense, and it occurs to her that she has never had to actually...comfort someone. Ever. She’s quite sure she’s doing this wrong, but Callum does not seem confused or upset anymore. If anything, he looks at her almost gratefully.

“Just breathe, huh?” he says, a sad, wistful smile on his lips. “My mom once gave the same advice.”

“She sounds wise.”

“...She was.”

Was. _Was_. She pictures the ragged wound in Amaya’s soul, remembers the tender, _understanding_ expression on her face whenever her grief for Khessa overwhelmed her, and another piece of the puzzle that is Amaya slides into place.

“Aunt Amaya...hasn’t talked about her?” Callum frowns. Confusion and worry are written on his face. It is understandable; his mother was loved dearly by Amaya, so why _wouldn’t_ she speak of such an important person to the elf she plans to marry? Or is already married to. Whatever their situation is.

“Some stories should only be told with the proper words,” she says carefully. Gesturing toward the book that never leaves the balcony, she adds, “I am not so skilled at her language yet, though I hope to someday be.”

It is not, perhaps, the best explanation. There is no good way to say that although she knows little of Amaya’s sister, she has seen the effect her death had on Amaya, has seen how that grief scarred her heart and soul. Amaya does not speak of her sister, just as she does not speak of Khessa, but it is not out of a desire to hide their pain.

It is the exact opposite; to know that someone understands their grief has allowed them to be content in leaving the topic alone for the time being. They will speak of it when the words are ready to be shared, however long that takes.

Though now that they are....married....she supposes that the topic of the former queen of Katolis will be brought up soon, as she will need to understand the family dynamics between the two princes and Amaya.

Callum, thankfully, does not press her on the subject. He is too distracted by his examination of the Sunfire sign language book to notice that her demeanor momentarily faltered.

“You’re learning? No, you’re _both_ learning?! That’s amazing!”

The conversation turns to sign language, to the Elven written languages, to the sorts of learning that was required of her as princess, to their shared distaste for their royal status. Their interests and talents lay in entirely different directions, but some things -such as the torture that is etiguette lessons- they can both agree on. Callum is eager to learn all he can about Sunfire culture. They lose sense of time as they share stories and speak of emotions that they have never dared to before, until the sky lightens and Amaya opens the door to the balcony.

In her hands is a tray of sliced sweet bread, fruits, and three cups of tea. Over the other arm is a blanket, which is held out to Callum before she puts the food down.

“Aunt Amaya! Good morning! Oh, wow, it _is_ morning. How did that happen? Is that for me?” Callum is quick to grab the blanket and wrap it around himself, shivering. Mumbling about how he hadn’t noticed the morning chill, and how isn’t _Amaya_ cold, he lets himself be shepherded to the couch and given food.

One raised eyebrow in her direction is all the order she needs to convince her to follow suit. The topics of before -of nightmares, of the long process to heal, of royalty and all the trappings of it they despise- are left behind. Instead, they discuss the upcoming surprise ceremony for the Dragonguard, Rayla.

Before long, Callum is yawning into his tea and drooping from lack of sleep. After the third time he nearly drops his cup, Amaya orders the boy to retire to his room.

It is no surprise when he agrees, hugging his aunt after signing what she thinks is “good night.”

What she doesn’t expect is for him to give _her_ a quick, one-armed hug. She is too shocked to respond, and Callum is too embarrassed to linger long, the boy practically racing back into the palace.

Amaya, at least, has the decency to wait until they are certain she can’t be heard before she laughs. “New friend?” she signs once she catches her breath, hands and arms shaking from the effort of holding back further laughter.

She does not answer. Not right away. There are too many thoughts running wild in her head, too many voices of the past repeating themselves.

_“Soft and foolish.”_

_“You are weak.”_

_“You have a kind soul.”_

_“You will give and give and give.”_

_“Every day, you must choose it.”_

_“Until there is nothing left of you.”_

_“Every day, you must ask yourself if it is worth it.”_

She takes a breath, and another, and another, until the doubts and voices silence themselves.

Amaya is watching her, tense and worried. How long has she been sitting here, staring out into the sky? Too long, most likely, for the sun is nearly up by now.

Snorting, she shakes her head and signs hesitantly, “Not friend. ... _Family_.”

She’s aware that it is the caring, kind, _weak_ part of her heart that is making this decision, knows that she is opening herself to the pain her vision during the purification ritual warned her about, but no matter how much the throne demands of her, how much _peace_ demands of her, she has long decided that the price is worth it.

And a very, very small part of her heart soaks in the warmth of Amaya’s answering smile, and thinks that any price is worth paying to see _that_.

**~Rayla~**

“Hurry, Ethari! We’re going to be late!”

“We aren’t going to be late, Rayla.”

She scowls at her father-figure and forces herself to slow her pace. Ethari is the only one of them who knows where they’re going, so she has no _choice_ but to walk at his frustratingly easy pace. The transport of the prisoners is going to start any time now, and she is _supposed_ to be there. She had lost track of time talking with Ethari, however, and Callum, in his effort to give them “family time,” had not come to collect her.

 _‘It’s sweet of him, but I’m still gonna punch him,’_ she swears to herself.

“Here we are. And right on time.” Ethari says as they stop outside a large, ornate door. Not that _every_ door in the palace isn’t large and ornate.

She has some doubts about their destination, because aren’t the prisoners supposed to be in a prison? Lost as she might be, she’s pretty sure they are still within the palace. There’s no time for questions, however, as Ethari reaches over to straighten her -newly gifted and unusually fancy- tunic for the millionth time. She pouts at his fussing, but after all that has happened since the mission into Katolis, she won’t deny that she misses it. Just a little.

“There. Perfect. Just hold your head up high, and _walk_.”

Ethari is acting _weird_ , but before she can call him out on it, he knocks on the door, which turns out to be a signal for those inside, because the doors immediately open, revealing a large outer plaza.

 _Filled with elves_.

Every last one of them staring at her.

“Walk, Rayla.”

As if she is in a dream, she obeys, staring straight ahead because if she looks anywhere else it’ll hit her that there are a _lot_ of eyes watching her and she doesn’t understand _why_. Waiting for her at the center of the plaza is Zubeia, Zym, Queen Janai, and Queen -Consort? Or just Queen?- Amaya. Callum does not stand with them, but she can barely comprehend that, somehow, this is all for _her_ , much less spare the effort to find her boyfriend in the crowd.

With shaky legs, she stops what she hopes is a proper amount of space before the queens and bows. Not the Moonshadow way, but the Sunfire bow, bending her knee with her hands in front of her face, as if to shield her from the light. It seems only appropriate, given that she is in the home of the Sunfire, standing before its queens.

Queen Janai breaks her stern facade to give her a small, encouraging smile, before she starts. “Well met, Rayla of the Moonshadow.”

The ceremony is short. Janai summarizes for the crowd all that she has done, all that she has _sacrificed_ for the sake of protecting Zym.

For the chance of peace.

“In the eyes of Lux Aurea, we acknowledge you to be a true warrior of honor, as your parents before you were.”

“And it is _my_ honor to deem you Dragonguard Rayla.”

She had spent the entire ceremony mentally ordering herself not to cry or run, but the honoring of her parents -something her _home_ refused to do- is the one thing that breaks her. Silent tears run down her face, even as she forces herself to stay still.

 _Warriors of honor_. Not cowards. Not weak. The bravest of warriors, who made the bravest of choices. That’s who her parents were, and to the Dragon Queen, and to all of Lux Aurea, they will be remembered as such.

Amaya picks up the box she had been too stunned to notice and steps in front of her, holding it open. For this, no words are needed. Only her proud grin as she presents the armor and weapons of a true Dragonguard.

Hands shaking, she ignores the weapons to gently touch the armour. Similar to the old Dragonguard design, the colors are changed to match Zym’s blue, and where there was once silver, there is now a pure white. In spite of its coloring, it’s clearly Sunfire design, as it weighs next to nothing, and shimmers in the light of the sun.

“Thank you,” she chokes out to Amaya through her tears. Then, turning to Janai, the one who made this possible, the one who believed in her when so few others did, she repeats fiercely, “ _Thank you_.”

It isn’t the most eloquent acceptance ever, but it’s all the Sunfire behind her need to raise their hands and voices in celebration, the floor vibrating from their cheering.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shorter than average, but in my defense, I caught a cold :/
> 
> I hope you enjoy those feels~
> 
> And because some people were curious, Callum is totally there. He's in the first row sobbing into his scarf and probably accepting Lux Aurea as his third home. How can he not love a place that loves his aunt and girlfriend? Sunfire elves ftw


	6. Ripples (Prisoner)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amaya corners Janai for a long overdue conversation, and it goes nothing like she expects.
> 
> Elsewhere, change starts in small places.

_She presses her hand against the door. It is a simple thing, made of white stone that predates Lux Aurea’s founding; predates even the establishment of the royal line. There is no gold here, no gems or extravagant architecture. Here, deep beneath the palace, there are only simple hallways and a single room._

_Never has she tread within these ancient halls, much less across the threshold of the door. That is a privilege reserved for the queen and queen alone. Khessa was shown the room before their mother passed -her right as heir- and had, of course, told her all about it and how to enter by the end of the next day. Whether she did it to brag, or to simply give her a taste of an experience she will never have, it is difficult to say._

_Knowing Khessa, it was both._

_With her hand against the stone, she reaches for the sun she bears in her heart. Talent for magecraft she has not, but connecting to her sun has always been easy, merely a matter of skill and emotion. After the purification ritual, it simmers unceasingly, always a breath, a blink, a heartbeat away from her grasp._

_She breathes in, and she is Janai._

_She breathes out, and her heart beats fire._

_Beneath her hands, runes alight in a fiery red, spreading from where her hand touches to the entire door. They pulse, rippling in an almost hypnotic rhythm, then the door rumbles open. Torches light magically, illuminating the shelves upon shelves in the small room beyond._

_The room awaits._

_But she cannot move._

_Her sister, mother, grandmother; all her family line has stood in this place, tracing back to the days when the Sunfire were a tribe and they did not have queens but leaders._

_All her life, she has been told that she is not worthy of their legacy. Not worthy of bearing the weight of the throne and all who depend on it. Yet fate has seen fit to make her the guardian of their legacy. Or the destroyer of it, if some nobles are to be believed._

_“ **How dare you stand here?** ” asks the voice of her mother._

_“ **What right do you have**?” asks the voice of her sister._

_She swallows nervously, staring at a torch. In the flickering light, she can just make out the base. Brown, she thinks. Brown...like Amaya’s eyes. Amaya, the stubborn, ridiculous human whose life is now forever entwined with her own._

_Amaya, who she currently suspects did not escape the purification ritual unchanged._

_“ **Do you have the courage**?” asks the sun in her heart._

_Courage?_

_For herself, she wonders every day._

_But for Amaya?_

_She breathes in, gathering her courage, and breathes out, stepping into the true heart of Lux Aurea: the Archive of the Suns._

_For Amaya, she will not falter._

**~Amaya~**

Janai is avoiding her.

There’s no other explanation for her sudden absence from their morning and evening meetings. The discovery of their “marriage” is a lot to take in, she knows. Considering it had taken most of that day for the revelation to truly sink in for herself, she completely understood Janai’s initial irritation. Granted, that was more directed at Kazi for not telling them, but the next morning her attitude was completely different.

_“Not friend. ...Family.”_

Never have three words ignited such a mixture of emotions in her. Relief, that Janai wasn’t angry. Affection, at seeing her bonding with Callum of her own accord. Admiration, for it was clear that when Janai decided to do something, she did so with her whole heart. Concern, too, for in those long minutes where Janai pondered her answer, her eyes had been so distant, and her posture so...exhausted.

There would be time to figure it out, she had thought then. Together, she had also assumed.

Yet it is five days later, and Janai may well live in the throne room or the meeting rooms for all they see of each other. When they do manage to exchange words, they are quick things, for business alone. If it weren’t for the stacks of paperwork that appear for Kazi and her to go through -files needed to establish her identity in Lux Aurea- and the occasional note about business in the city, she would think that Janai has forgotten her entirely.

It’s odd, at first. Then concerning. Then frustrating.

With every morning that she spends alone on the balcony, and every night she spends pointlessly waiting with Kazi, her mood worsens. The idea of simply marching into Janai’s room and demanding an explanation is more tempting by the day. Only the knowledge that it would be useless -given their inability to hold a full conversation without Kazi, and her unwillingness to drag the poor elf into Janai’s room- stops her.

Worse is that she cannot find it in herself to be _angry_ like she wants to be; Janai is barely functional during meetings, often shaking herself awake or covering a yawn. Part of her wonders if Janai would even _be_ in her room if she decided to invade.

It’s only when she finds herself being called to meet with some advisers _alone_ , that they may share their concerns about Janai’s health and ask for advice on minor emergencies that have cropped up, that she decides enough is enough.

A week ago, it would have amused her that the Sunfire consider her the closest thing to an expert on Janai there is. Now that she knows _why_ they do, she is...well. Still amused, but also becoming keenly aware of how large a role she has been thrust into. Consort, she is starting to suspect, does not quite mean the same thing in Lux Aurea as it does in Katolis.

It’s funny how she came to Lux Aurea as a prisoner: powerless, weak, less than nothing. Yet all she has received from the Sunfire since her arrival is trust and power. Few care that she is a human, a former enemy who destroyed the Breach and trespassed on their lands for years, and the ones that do still acquiesce to her authority. Human, elf, it matters not. The Sun judged her fit to rule, and so the Sunfire accept her as a ruler. No question. No argument.

She understood that, when it concerned Janai. Applying that knowledge to herself is far more difficult to get used to, but that doesn’t stop her from throwing around her newfound power and clearing Janai’s schedule at the end of the night so she can stage an ambush.

Kazi is a nervous wreck, fidgeting with their reports while they wait for Janai in the ornate conference room. It’s one of the smaller rooms, mainly used for more informal meetings. As in, her favorite kind of meeting, because they are usually short, and don’t involve certain nobles who love to hear the sound of their own voice. Not that she can hear their voices, but they’re irritating to watch.

They have been here for an hour now, going over their work and reading through the reports that need to be signed. It’s technically Janai’s work, but none questioned her when she requested the papers. She’s partially hoping that Janai will be less annoyed by the ambush if they bribe her with finished paperwork.

Thankfully, Janai is punctual as always, stepping into the room with a blank expression that signifies an uneventful meeting with the dam reconstruction leaders had preceded this one. It takes her very little time to freeze, eyes sweeping across the room in surprise and confusion.

She had planned several ways to start this ambush, varying from attempting to be nice to being a smartass to demanding an explanation up front.

All of her plans fall apart when Janai frowns with worry, closes the door quickly, and asks, “Has something happened?”

“No!” she -and Kazi- quickly reassures her. “We need to talk.”

Janai narrows her eyes, but still, there is none of the anger she expects. “Very well,” she says, briskly making her way to the queen’s chair next to hers. Which was another sign that they had missed, because where _else_ would the only human in Lux Aurea sit if not beside the one who brought her there?

“Talk.” The sign is abruptly given, then Janai crosses her arms and leans back, waiting for them to start. Casually, not arrogantly, though not so long ago she wouldn’t have known the difference. Or cared to have known.

“Where have you been?”

Janai squints at her. “Where. Meetings?” As Kazi only interprets the second word, she assumes the first was simply mouthed in silent confusion.

“Meetings are not why you are gone every morning. Meetings are not why you miss dinner every night. _Where have you been?_ ” she signs sternly.

It’s only when Janai raises her eyebrows and stares incredulously does it occur to her that she sounds like a neglected wife. Instantly, an image of Sarai laughing hysterically crosses her mind. Just as quickly, she lights that image on fire. This is _serious_ , damn it all.

Very serious, as Janai remains inscrutable and not at all annoyed at being ambushed and cornered. If there is anything she has learned about Janai, it’s that she is very much a reactive person, and always, always passionate. Even when she holds herself sternly, there is a liveliness, a sense of barely contained energy that channels into her abrupt movements and sometimes exaggerated facial expressions. She used to think the strange dichotomy was a result of awkwardness and arrogance; now she knows that it’s the way Janai’s natural attitude breaks through the regality callously conditioned into her by her family.

Slowly, carefully, Janai uncrosses her arms to sign, “When is the last time you were cold?”

She blinks, unsure if she read those hesitant signs properly, and looks to Kazi for clarification. Kazi has to ask verbally, but the interpretation is the same.

But. Cold?

The question makes no sense. Janai is not one for jokes, however, so she forces herself to seriously consider it. The Storm Spire had been cold, she supposes, and the ride back to Lux Aurea had been so windy that not even Janai’s considerable body heat could ward off enough of the chill to prevent the slight numbness she had been left with. And. ...She _does_ recall wishing for an extra blanket, or at least a long-sleeved tunic in the first week of her stay, vaguely remembers the cold winds atop the Sunforge before they started the ritual.

_“How are you not freezing out here, Aunt Amaya?”_

Haltingly, she answers, “Before the ritual.”

Janai clenches her jaw, the muscles in her neck twitching. For the next set of questions, she speaks verbally and allows Kazi to interpret. “Have you burned your tongue on any food since the ritual? Perhaps burned a hand touching freshly cooked food or dishes that have been too close to a flame? Noticed heat in any degree?”

Apprehension settles in her gut, growing worse as she digs through every memory of the time since the ritual for a positive answer to any of the questions. Her first week had been filled with accidents concerning what the Sunfire consider “normal” temperatures, but after?

She shakes her head, eyes never leaving Janai as she stands and begins to pace in front of the table. As curious as she is, she doesn’t want to interrupt her friend’s frantic thinking. Eventually, she stops and faces her again.

“What do you remember of the judgement?”

Now that is an easy question to answer. “It asked if I was worthy. It tried to tear me away from you, threatened to incinerate my soul. I refused to give in, and it.” She stops and tries to find a way to describe the wordless fight that had taken place. “It accepted my motivation.”

Her motivation to protect Janai. Her desire to stand at her side. Her unwavering faith that she would succeed. Her willingness to die if it meant giving Janai the chance to live.

Yes, the Sun had accepted her motivation, but it had also deemed her _worthy_. And those were two different decisions, she realizes now.

The first was to decide if she would be allowed to survive the experience, the second was to determine if she was Consort material. Queen material.

She thinks of the power that had enveloped her soul, the fire that had settled into her heart at the end of the judgement, and raises her right hand to touch the emblem on her tunic.

What, her “heart of fire” is literal now? Will Lux Aurea ever cease to surprise her?

Janai allows her to take in the implications and sits again, uncertainty written plainly on her face. “A comment from Callum led me to suspect this was so. I have been researching the effects of the Sun on rulers of the past, but it is slow work and cannot be done by any other. All know that the Sun gives life as easily as it takes it, that only in destruction can change flourish. Destruction is considered a process of transformation, and it is by that principle that the Dark Mage changed his army. It is likely why the effects were unable to be fully reversed. _Your_ transformation is more subtle, but it is undeniable.”

So.

She has been transformed.

That sounds far more intimidating than she _feels_. And really, it explains why she has had so much mental imagery of fire since the ritual. She had thought it was a side effect of being in Lux Aurea and surrounded by Sunfire; the phrase “heart of fire” and all its variations are so common, it was easy to assume that she had absorbed the mindset.

“And here I thought I was going to have a conversation about whether or not Queen Consort means lover to the Sunfire,” she signs, sighing.

As expected, Kazi freezes and turns bright red in the middle of the interpretation, earning themselves a suspicious glare from Janai. Miserably, they finish, determinedly avoiding their queen’s eyes while they fidget with their hands.

Janai blinks, then rears back and blushes so deeply that her skin nearly matches her hair. It’s a sight she has yet to tire of, and part of her is disappointed that she is not in the proper mindset to fully enjoy it. Crossing her arms defensively -as she tends to when embarrassed- Janai glares and starts speaking, but her lips barely move, suggesting that she is forcing each word out through clenched teeth.

“Not that it has _anything at all_ to do with our current conversation, but it is an implication of being married, yes,” Kazi interprets stiffly, their gaze firmly directed away from either queen. They’re probably desperately wishing they can escape this conversation and retreat to the safety of their room.

She wonders what the young elf is most discomforted by: that they are the only other soul in the world who knows that the human consort is not _quite_ human anymore, or that they have to speak about the queen’s sex life to her face.

“In Katolis, to be a royal consort is to _only_ be a monarch’s lover. Though some use it to refer to the one marrying into the throne, that is more often meant to be an insult. Strictly speaking, it is a fancy way of saying they’re the monarch’s favorite person to have sex with, but not someone particularly suitable for ruling.” Shrugging, she adds, “I assumed it was the same here.”

Kazi shrinks away from them with every word they interpret, and she is certain that they would almost rather be dead than standing in this room.

Janai, for her part, grows more offended with every word she hears, sputtering what reads as nonsense to her eyes when Kazi is finished. “You. You thought I would treat you, who was proven pure of heart by the Light, who was given a heart of fire by the Sun itself, with such. Such. Such _disrespect_?”

It’s a better answer than she was hoping for -it’s quite touching, actually- but she’s pretty sure her blunt question hurt Janai’s feelings. She doesn’t fully understand why it did, though. There’s nothing inherently _wrong_ with being a royal consort. Then again, Janai isn’t really the type to have one in the first place. Oh, this is not at all what she envisioned happening during this conversation. She almost feels guilty about it.

 _Almost_ ; there is a tiny part of her that is still upset about being neglected for the last few days.

“Well I certainly didn’t expect to be made a real queen of a city that I came to as a prisoner two months ago! How do I help rule a city I barely know?”

“ _You_ will not rule in Lux Aurea,” Janai signs, expression fierce as she puts extra force behind “you.”

Somehow, though they are words that she partially expected to be said this night, she can’t help but feel...hurt by them. She doesn’t even _want_ to rule, to be a queen like Sarai was, but to be so forcefully told that she isn’t suitable for it by the woman who was once her enemy is surprisingly painful. Janai’s opinion, she admits to herself glumly, has come to matter very much to her.

The pain must show on her face, because Janai physically and emotionally retreats away from her, and they both look away, needing time to collect themselves.

Closing her eyes, she tries to push away the hurt. She had planned for this, has a list of arguments in response to just about anything Janai might say ready to be unleashed. Once she figures out whether she wants to stay or leave, once she gets past the pain, she might be able to utilize them.

A gentle hand on her chin brings her mind back to reality. She lets her face be turned and meets Janai’s gold rimmed eyes. The hand lingers for a moment longer than necessary, slipping away from her skin with the slightest caress.

And from the way her heart stutters, she could swear that hand drags her breath out with it.

Janai speaks slowly, face solemn and so frighteningly pleading that she nearly hugs her then and there. “I may have never dared acknowledge it, but the possibility that I might someday sit upon the throne has always existed. The throne is a heavy burden, one that demands everything and more of its queens. That burden is now mine to bear, and I will gladly give all of myself to Lux Aurea.” Her expression changes, turning into one of determination, and her eyes blaze red and orange like an unsheathed Sunforge blade. “But I will _never_ demand such a sacrifice of you. Your family, your world, exists outside of Lux Aurea, and I would not dare keep you from them.”

Janai scoffs, lips pulling into a rueful smile. It lightens her entire face, softening her previous intensity without being any less mesmerizing. “Besides, we all have seen how well you take to being chained and caged.”

Is she relieved that she doesn’t have to take on the role of a true queen? Yes, but it is a fleeting emotion swept away by so many others.

Awe, for Janai’s commitment to her duty.

Respect, for her courage in facing a future she never wanted.

Empathy, for the loss that still weighs on her soul.

Gratitude, for the freedom being offered without reserve.

And overwhelming affection, for Janai, a queen, a Sunfire, a _sun_ , is smiling at her as if she is the only light in the world that matters.

The fire that has been smouldering in her heart flares again, threatening to ignite into something she doesn’t think she can control. And unlike her new immunity to flame and cold, she doesn’t think she can blame _this_ change on the Sun.

‘ _Oh sister. If you could see me now, falling in love with the queen of the Sunfire elves, what would you say, I wonder?’_

**~The Prisoner~**

When she followed Viren into Xadia, she only partially expected to live. Even with the enormous army of four kingdoms, the might and magic of elves is, to humans, the stuff of nightmares. Maybe they would win. Maybe they wouldn’t. But they _would_ see King Harrow avenged, if nothing else.

Dying, she thinks, would have been easier than... _this_.

She pulls her hands apart, watching the links of her chains as they reach their limit. There is a generous amount of space allowed in the chains; who would try to escape, when they are being sent home anyway? Xadia is too strange, too unknown, to risk traversing alone. Especially when the alternative is a private escort by the queen of dragons, Sunfire elves, and Prince Callum.

The pace of the march is fast, but not demanding. They are allowed to rest, allowed to eat when they feel like it, and the Sunfire are stern, but not cruel in any way.

Not that they ever have been.

Her time in the Sunfire prison cell had been life-changing, perhaps, but also indescribably _dull_. They were given food twice a day, and allowed to wash off once a week, but otherwise, they were left alone. The only excitement came from when another of the prisoners snapped and lost control, or when _they_ came to visit.

General Amaya, and the Idiot Elf.

She knew who the General was, of course. Everyone did. Sister to the late Queen Sarai. Aunt to the princes. The fiercest fighter in all of Katolis. Unmovable. Unbreakable.

But the first time she saw Katolis’ greatest warrior after her mind had been returned, Amaya was wearing a tunic like a Sunfire elf, being followed by a mousy little elf as if it were her servant, and being bowed to by the guards as if she were nobility. It was almost as shocking as it was to wake up and find herself permanently transformed into a monster.

How could any of the story told to them be true? How could they have marched against King Ezran and Prince Callum, the sons of the man so many of their soldiers wanted to avenge? Sure, Ezran was pronounced unfit for the throne, but to try and kill him? How could humans and elves and dragons fought against them, together? How could they be monsters and General Amaya be allied with _elves_? What fucked up world did they wake up to?

It was easy to hate Amaya. It was easier than hating themselves, and there was plenty of that to go around. What they thought to be a symbol of Katolis’ strength had seemingly switched sides, making friends with elves and lording over the human prisoners. Many cursed her name, insulted her under their breaths or at her face as she walked by during her visits. Not that it did any good, all things considered, but if it made them feel better, more power to them, she thought.

She had no idea how to feel, herself. Amaya may have turned out to be an elf lover, but it wasn’t Amaya that attacked a city of civilians and tried to kill King Harrow’s sons.

Her days were spent wallowing in despair and hate. Sometimes, she imagined killing herself. Other times, she imagined reaching through the bars and killing the guards. Other times, she imagined burning down the prison, taking everyone and everything with her down in flames.

Other prisoners -those like herself, whose bodies were the most inhuman- would try the last two now and then. They would rage and seethe and _burn_ , their veins and eyes glowing red, red, and redder. Their clothes ignited from the heat, burning until the guards put a stop to it. If they made it on time.

If they didn’t, the prisoner would simply...burst into flame, being eaten alive by the fires of their own hatred.

She’s pretty sure there’s some poetry in that, but the only thing she cared about was the awful smell those incidents left behind. And it made the other prisoners wary of her, as if she too would lose control if they breathed too long in her direction.

Those sorts of things were common in the first weeks of their captivity, but as time passed and the days marched onward, most prisoners -herself included- settled for utter apathy. Life, death, what did it matter? They had nothing left.

And then.

Then the General had come for yet another pointless visit, to deliver yet more pointless news. She remembers that day so clearly, how Amaya had waltzed into the dungeon, a spring in her step and those Sunfire clothes looking natural on her by then. Amaya had certainly settled in well, she remembers thinking contemptuously. It was the first emotion that wasn’t depression she had felt in so long, and, without thinking, she opened her mouth for the first time in weeks and dared ask, “ _What does it even matter?_ ”

She wasn’t expecting an answer. She was barely aware that she was speaking aloud. All she knew was that her frustration had finally found a new outlet.

She didn’t think she was going to snap; not until _that Idiot Elf_ went and opened their mouth. And then, well, those words, “why would they not” broke something in her. Dragging that damned elf to her through the bars, she swore that she would finally reach her limit, would combust and feed the fire that replaced her heart just as the others had.

And then the Idiot Elf had the gall to say she was still human. Because she had _five fingers and round ears_. And the Idiot Elf was so confused, so earnest, so panicked, so _sincere_ that all her anger, all her fire, disappeared.

She didn’t expect the Idiot Elf to linger, and certainly didn’t expect them to keep talking, but they had.

_“After all, you carry a sun in your heart, and the sun needs no permission to rise.”_

If she was going to be poetic, she would say that it had felt like her heart had been turned to stone since she first woke in Lux Aurea, and those words were the mallet she needed to break through the rock and let it to beat again. Or maybe that she had been dreaming the entire time, and hearing those words felt like truly waking up.

The world regained its color, everything became sharper, became _real_ , and she? She was a goddamned sun.

She paid attention, after that. To her surroundings, to her fellow prisoners, and especially to the guards. Even if she rarely went out of her way to interact with any of them.

_“I hope the General visits today. She brings the best snacks.”_

_“Do you think the General will get an inferno mount? As she is pure of heart? She’d be frightening with an inferno tiger.”_

_“The General and Adviser Kazi stopped by my uncle’s shop the other day, and now he won’t stop ranting about how kind they are.”_

The Sunfire elves, she learned quickly, respected Amaya to an alarming degree. It took several days to figure out why.

General Amaya, leader of the Standing Battalion, fiercest warrior in Katolis, had _married the queen of the godsforsaken Sunfire elves_.

The Twin Suns of Lux Aurea, the elves called them, with reverence in the voices. Queen Janai and General Amaya. They saved their city, saved their sun, and fought in defense of the dragon queen and prince.

They didn’t care that she was a human.

They didn’t care that she was an enemy not so long ago.

General Amaya was honorable, strong, and had proven herself worthy. What did they care about anything else?

It wasn’t what she expected of the elves. She had thought they hated all humans, and wanted them dead. She willingly _went to war_ on that idea. It was jarring to realize that they didn’t care about them at all, to see that personal honor mattered more to them than differences in fingers, ears, and magic did.

Such a simple realization, and yet it felt as though her whole life had been a lie.

_“Are you going to the ceremony? To honor that Moonshadow Dragonguard?”_

_“I don’t know… Does it feel as though her Radiance is in the habit of picking up strays? First a human, now a Moonshadow child.”_

_“When you put it that way, I suppose so. But the Moonshadow is more than worthy of the honor. Unless...you are grouchy about breaking tradition? Pffft, are you Sunfire or_ Earthblood _?”_

Soon after her outburst, the General left an open offer for new clothes, if any wanted them. Few did; out of attachment to their torn uniforms, loathing for the Sunfire, apathy, or all three combined.

The prisoners were a complicated bunch.

She was one of those who took the offer, receiving a tunic the color of her eyes and black pants. Simple, comfortable material, and _fireproof_. That, she learned quickly, for she spent most of her time after her outburst meditating, trying to connect with her heart of fire -another phrase of the Sunfire’s, and apparently something else the General had- Her success was minimal, amounting to little more than quick flames that illuminated the dimly lit dungeons. There was always something missing, however, and it wasn’t until the Katolis soldiers were led outside for their return home that she realized what it was.

The sun.

The source of the Sunfire’s power...was also the source of _her_ power, and her time away from it had left her soul starved and weakened.

And now? She has been in chains for days, and walking just as long, but she has the sun and she has her heart. The others complain, but she feels _amazing_. Maybe it has something to do with her extra sensitivity to the sun’s light, or maybe it’s just that she is at peace with herself, but she enjoys her mini tour through Xadia. It’s a lot nicer when she isn’t marching through planning to die.

The rumblings among the troops increase when the border comes into sight. While it’s technically the same crossing that Viren had made, now there is a proper bridge. It’s there that the army awaits them.

The army, and King Ezran.

There’s something of a fuss when the dragon queen lands near the King, one which grows when the Sunfire begin to unshackle them. She waits patiently at the back of the group, more content with examining the newly built bridge under her feet and the outposts on both sides of the border in view of it.

When she had first crossed the border, she had been shaking and sweating, frightened by the lava and suffocating in the heat. Standing there now, she is calmer, stronger, and thriving with all the fire around her.

“Thanks,” she says casually when one of the elves unlocks her chains. She is the last one to be attended to, and the last one standing in the area, as all the others have rushed ahead to the square where the King is waiting to give them a speech or something. She’s in no rush, though. Speeches have always bored her. “Akier, right?”

The elf, Akier, raises an eyebrow and nods slowly. He is, if she figures it right, the equivalent of a lieutenant among the Sunfire.

“Does the General still intend to travel with the rest of the prisoners on the next trip?”

Akier blinks at the random question, maybe surprised that a prisoner even knows that bit of information. There had been very little talk amongst the transformed prisoners, other than despairing talk wondering where they will live and how they will be hated. “I believe so.”

“Hmm. I bet the outposts on both sides of the border will be in a bit of a fuss, getting ready to receive one of Lux Aurea’s Suns.” She smirks at the suspicious elf. “I hope they have room for a human with a slightly higher heat tolerance than normal.”

The other Sunfire -who have no reason to stay for King Ezran’s speech- have gathered around Akier now, impatient to return to their side of the border. Katolis and the Sunfire may be allies in name, but a thousand years of hatred will not be forgotten so easily.

‘ _Oh. I’m standing in the middle of the bridge._ ’

She huffs and moves to the right, allowing them to pass while she moves on. All it takes is a handful of steps, and she is finally, finally back in Katolis.

But is it still home? Is she really free?

“It doesn’t hurt to ask.”

Surprised, she spins around to find Akier watching her as the other elves walk past him. He is impassive at best, but there is no hatred in his eyes, no aggression in his bearing.

“The worst they can do is say no, soldier.”

They stare at each other for a moment longer, a not-quite-human and a Sunfire taking the measure of each other. Neither of them shows any emotion. It’s too soon, she thinks, to expect anything more than cool regard. She shrugs and turns back to Katolis, but after a second of hesitation, she lifts her hand to give the elf a casual wave.

“It’s Zahara.”

She knows he hasn’t moved, but she doesn’t know if he heard, or even if he cares. In the end, it makes no difference. She is already moving forward.

After all, she has a life to figure out, and a very important question that needs answering.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is brought to you by the endless looping of the Spyro the Dragon soundtrack. It's the longest one by far, and Janai and Amaya haven't even resolved everything :/
> 
> But I hope it makes up for the last chapter being so short!


	7. Queens and Kings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The kids are doing alright, but they have a few concerns about the adults.

_Council meetings with Janai’s advisers are...interesting. With Lux Aurea still recovering, and the manner of her crowning, Janai must, unfortunately, rely on the advisers for duties traditionally overseen by the queen herself until life settles down. Which, also unfortunately, means that the council meets quite often._

_She hadn’t cared for the meetings back in Katolis, and had happily provided encouraging commentary to Sarai’s constant grumbling about certain council members and where they can shove their nobility._

_Janai is equally unimpressed with her council, her language less crass but no less cutting when she complains during dinner. Janai has insisted that she need not attend the meetings, but while they’re boring, yes-mind-numbingly so- they’re also informative on many levels. It may not exactly be her place, but she takes it upon herself to discern who is worthy of remaining on the council and in Janai’s presence. And besides, she likes to think that she cuts an intimidating enough figure to deter some of the more stubborn ones from annoying her too often._

_The most significant problem with the council is that, in the end, nobles are_ nobles _, and Janai? She may be royalty, but many of the things that she ought to have learned about ruling, about her legacy and the importance of it, she never did or wanted to. There was clashing between her and the advisers at times, as there ought to be in a proper council, but she has been expecting things to blow up for weeks now._

_Today, they do._

_And they do over_ her _._

_The advisers are upset when they hear that Janai will now be joining the prisoner transport to meet with the human rulers of Katolis and Duren at the border, and horrified that_ she _will not be returning to Lux Aurea immediately after, instead continuing on to Katolis for a time. They may not particularly want a human as Queen Consort, but if she must be, they insist, then she should take her duties seriously, for hasn’t she had her time to adjust by now?_

_They argue, coerce, demand, use words like tradition and legacy and propriety._

_Janai is stone._

_Until she is not._

_“Enough!” she snarls. And though she cannot hear the word, she feels the pressure it brings into the room when all others freeze. “We were informing you of our decision, not inviting your input!”_

_Only a fool would dare defy Janai when she is so tense and ready to spring._

_So of course, Adviser Obasi, the oldest adviser on the council and one who has served under Janai’s mother and Khessa both, dares do so._

_“You would defy tradition so carelessly? Lux Aurea was founded on tradition and honor!”_

_Something subtle shifts in the air. In_ Janai _. It is nothing that can be seen; only sensed, if one has the training for it._

_Halim, their recently promoted military advisor and a veteran warrior, is the only one with battle instincts well-honed enough to know that those words have brought them into very, very dangerous territory. He turns a sickly pale, leaning away from the table and eyeing the door desperately._

_Sensible man. She has liked him since they met while evacuating the city._

_Outwardly, Janai is unnervingly still and calm. It’s the most dangerous she has ever seen her, not to mention disturbingly attractive. “Tradition, you say? Where was tradition when my sister was murdered? Where was tradition when our Sun was corrupted? Where was tradition when our city was overrun and we were forced to flee for our lives? Tell me, Obasi, was it tradition that saved us, or the humans who came to our aid?”_

_Janai stands, places her hands on the table, and leans forward, sneering. She may move slowly, but the sense that she is a breath away from going into heat-being mode is now undeniable to_ all _present._

_She wonders if a murder is about to be commited, and debates whether she wants to stop it. On one hand, that old bastard deserves it. On the other, killing advisers is probably as frowned upon in Lux Aurea as much as it is in Katolis, and Janai’s reputation is more important than one irritation._

_Barely._

_...Maybe._

_“We are not Earthblood, unchanging and unmovable, revering history and tethered to the mistakes of our past. We are Sunfire, burning out the old and dead, encouraging new life to grow from the ashes. So if the flames that precipitate the change necessary to ensure no future generations suffer as we have must be fed upon the pyre of a thousand years of tradition-” she leans further and the sneer deepens “-then I will be the spark that ignites it.”_

_There are very few times in her life where she wishes she can hear, but she thinks this may be one of them. Everything about Janai, from her posture to her words to the shimmering aura that is the beginning of heat-being mode, screams power and danger. Is the timber of her voice snarling and dangerous like the flashing yellow flame in her eyes, or is it sharp and cutting like the sneer on her lips, or is it deceptively calm like the casual pace her words were delivered?_

_From how still and terrified the advisers are, she thinks it is the second._

_None move, none speak. This is a turning point in Janai’s rule, she realizes. Here is where the line is being drawn, where the advisers must decide if they will follow their queen’s will or if their own principles are more important to them._

_Obasi is the first to make his choice._

_He stands, fury written in his face and trembling body, but says nothing as he turns and walks out. If he speaks when his back is turned to them, she cannot tell, but she has a feeling that he does not._

_Two more follow him._

_The rest, four all together, remain sitting. None spare the three deserters a glance. The atmosphere in the room is the most suffocating she has ever experienced, and she says this after suffering the debacle that was Harrow and Viren’s venture into Xadia that saw Thunder murdered and put their kingdom on the brink of war._

_Halim, the brave, brave man, is the first to move, coughing into his fist and saying, “Anyway, the latest reports from the border have arrived.”_

_Janai, now the Queen of Lux Aurea in name_ and _in spirit, relaxes with a single deep exhale, sitting back down and turning her attention to the man as if nothing has happened._

_Glancing over at Kazi, she smirks and signs in Katolian, “Isn’t my wife the best?”_

_Kazi drops their head and sighs._

**~Records of the Official Correspondences Between Queen Janai and Queen Aanya~**

-in elegant writing- _Queen Aanya,_

_The return to Lux Aurea was uneventful. The condition of the prisoners has not improved, but neither are they worse. Without the Dark Mage to control them, they remain docile. I have tasked my mages with discovering a spell to return them to their human forms, but I fear that without the power of the Sun, the primal stone that serves as the source of Lux Aurea’s power, there is little we can do. Though magecraft is no specialty of mine, I suspect that, until we find a way to purify the corrupted Sun, the prisoners will have to remain as they are._

_Golden Knight Janai_

-in choppier writing- _**Lux Aurea is amazing and we really should arrange a future visit for you. Nothing in Duren and Katolis can compare to the golden city that the Sunfire elves have built. The elves are wary of me, but I think I’m growing on them. I’m sure they’ll be more accepting of humans visiting in no time. Until then, the snacks I included will give you a good idea of the sort of cuisine they enjoy.**_

**_I recommend having some water nearby._ **

**_General Amaya_ **

Golden Knight Janai and General Amaya,

Attempts to contact the councils of Del Bar, Evenere, and Neolandia have proven to be useless. The loss of their armies in Xadia have left them weak, and the shifting of power is not helping matters. They have, however, united to condemn Katolis and, to a lesser extent, Duren.

As it stands, none of the other kingdoms have spent much time inquiring about the condition of their troops across the border, so do not feel as though you must reallocate precious resources to solve their plight if they will be better spent rebuilding your city and protecting your people.

Why must candy be covered in _spices_? Are Sunfire immune to such tastes?

Queen Aanya

_Queen Aanya,_

_After some hasty work and much determination, we have succeeded in purifying our Sun. With that matter settled, my mages are free to devote their time in researching a solution to the prisoner’s plight. Their condition, though previously stable, has begun to deteriorate. A select few have shown signs of aggression and instability. We fear that if we do not reverse the effects of the transformation immediately, they will continue their downward spiral. We are working against time itself, for with every passing hour, we receive more reports of prisoners lashing out._

_**She makes it sound life-threatening, but we have some leeway in the timing. The prisoners have yet to do more than yell aggressively, and I believe that much of the prisoner’s anger has more to due with their imprisonment in the dungeons than anything else. They are restless and need an outlet. I have faith in Janai’s mages, however. They have applied themselves to this problem as Sunfire seem to do everything: passionately. I bet they’ll have a solution within days.** _

**_As for the other kingdoms, I would suggest withholding further information until they seek you out. Let the rumor mill work against them. They are well within their rights to declare war upon Duren for marching against their troops if the full truth is known. The longer they go without proper information, the harder it will be for them to move against you. They will be leery of rash actions after their last ones decimated their standing armies._ **

**_On a brighter note, as a result of throwing myself into the midst of the purification ritual, I appear to have unexpectedly gained the trust and respect of the Sunfire. Future visits will certainly be possible within a year, at the rate things are going here._ **

**_I’ve included more snacks. And to be fair, I did warn you._ **

**_Queen Janai and General Amaya_ **

Queen Janai and General Amaya,

Though the circumstances behind your coronation are regrettable, I am relieved to hear that Lux Aurea has begun healing. In the human lands, Del Bar and Evenere have seen some political shifts that indicate sound leadership has taken control, but their responses have been as hostile as you suspected they would be. Neolandia in particular has refused to reply. In fact, no crows have returned, either. As their king remains in a coma, and their prince was killed by my hand, I suspect that only their diminished military force keeps them from declaring war on Duren. I have been selective in what information I release, and when I do so. Letting rumors gather speed before revealing conflicting information will keep the other leaders wary.

From the way you have phrased it, I assume intervening in the purification ritual was against tradition. You certainly have a way of endearing yourself to the Sunfire, when by all rights you should have been executed several times over.

I was, perhaps, hasty in my judgement of the spiced candies. I will admit that they have grown on me. As I forgot to do so in my last letter, I must thank you now for these treats.

Queen Aanya

_Queen Aanya,_

_She absolutely should have died during the ritual, but it seems even the Sun had no choice but to acknowledge her stubbornness._

_**I’m just that awesome.** _

**__** _As for the prisoners, my mages have begun reversing the dark mage’s spell, but have been met with limited success. Many are, for the most part, human again. Though their minds are their own, the degree to which their changes are reversed are neither uniform nor complete. Some can pass for human if one does not look close enough. A handful retain a glow only slightly less obvious than their fully transformed state. Those particular prisoners are also the most unstable, and several have lost control of their inner fire to deadly results. Enclosed is a comprehensive list of the prisoners, organized by kingdom. Though their rulers seem not to care for their fate, I imagine that if rumors were to spread that Duren holds news of the missing soldiers and is accepting letters from concerned families, public sentiment will sway in your favor._

_**With the mages working at their current pace, they will be finishing their work on the prisoners by the time you get this letter. Also, you have to try this bread with milk. It’s amazing! Oh, and the sealed letter included with this should be given to your spymaster. He will know what to do with it. I have some favors I can call in from certain less-than-legal guilds that can assist you with the rumor efforts in other countries. As well as deter potential assassination contracts any might take out on you.** _

**_Janai and Amaya_ **

Janai and Amaya,

Thank you for that letter. Whatever it is, it certainly made my spymaster delightfully pale when I handed it to him. We have since received several anonymous reports concerning the tenuous political situations in the other kingdoms. Enclosed are copies of those reports. I was assured you know the code to decipher them.

Janai, your suggestion was put into action via Amaya’s questionable contacts per my request. The uproar it has caused in the kingdoms is beyond what I anticipated. I cannot yet say if it is a good thing or not, but public sentiment and the reactions of the kingdom’s leaders are now sharply divided. The public is confused and wants their families back, and the lack of action on their government’s part is causing trouble in their capital cities. Letters have already begun arriving from desperate families, despite our growing reputation as traitors of humanity and friends of elves. At the very least, the other kingdoms will have their hands full dealing with the ire of their citizens.

That said, I believe it will be best to remand custody of the prisoners of Neolandia, Evenere, and Del Bar over to Duren. Katolis simply is not in a position to fend off the anger their presence will incite in other kingdoms. Especially is it was Katolis that led the armies into Xadia.

The bread was delicious, especially with hot chocolate. The round ones with the pink glaze are my favorite, I think.

Aanya

_Aanya,_

_After some discussion, we have agreed that Duren is the only kingdom equipped to hold the prisoners. It is not out of the realm of possibility that the kingdoms will hold Katolis responsible for their transformation, once the news of it reaches the people. It will take time to produce enough chains for the prisoners, and the mages want to supervise them for at least another week, to ensure the spell takes. We will have confirmation of their stability with our next letter, so I would suggest making plans for the transport to take place in three weeks. The exact dates shall be your decision. Enclosed is a map of the route the transport shall take to the border and the expected length of the trip._

_Also, I have included a jar of jam in your package of sweets. It pairs well with bread. More so than this “cow milk,” I imagine._

_**Janai is not impressed with cows. Or my art of them.** _

_That is beside the point. The leaves enclosed are for tea making purposes. The white bag contains a subtle, herbal tea that assists with sleep. The red bag makes for a good morning tea. Amaya is slowly decimating the palace stores of them, as it is the only thing she is allowed to cook._

_**Apparently the kitchen shared by the queen and queen consort’s chambers is not fireproof. It’s rather neglectful of the Sunfire to overlook that, considering the royal family has a predisposition for elves capable of heat-being mode.** _

_And yet never has one destroyed the kitchen._

_**That she knows of! And I did not destroy it. Only a few pots, and towels. And the wall is a little scorched. Anyway, nothing that can’t be replaced. Though it’s a good thing I wasn't there at the time it exploded.** _

_On a different note, the weapons I commissioned for you will be ready on time to be sent with Amaya and the prisoners._

_**I’m bringing some Sunfire tunics too. They’re comfortable and would suit Duren’s weather well. Also, on Janai’s insistence, they will be made of the same material that serves as light armor among the Sunfire. She’s cute when she’s being overprotective.** _

_It is not overprotective, it is practical! We will send only three sets, as you will outgrow them soon enough. I highly suggest wearing them when traveling outside your castle._

_**See! Overprotective.** _

**_Janai and Amaya_ **

Janai and Amaya,

I included a timetable for the transport based on your map. If there is any conflict in the dates, please let me know.

The other kingdoms have refused to answer any more of my letters. At this point, I must assume it is deliberate, for Amaya’s contacts have sent word of the other leaders meeting with each other. As things stand, my best course of action concerning the prisoners will be to escort them across Duren to the western border, and allow them to return home. It will be a long march, but I refuse to hold them hostage while their leaders give me the silent treatment. Once they are safely released, I will attempt to call the Pentarchy.

The tea you sent works wonderfully. I was initially worried that it would leave me drowsy as many herbal teas do, but I am glad to say that it is not the case there. As for the jam, I must admit that if my will were any weaker, I would happily finish the jar in a single day. It serves as a nice treat after a stressful day of dealing with adults who think they know how to run my kingdom better than I can.

It seems Amaya is determined to prove herself every bit the menace elves have no doubt considered humans to be for thousands of years. Your kitchen has my sympathy.

Once again, I must thank you in advance for these gifts.

Aanya

_Aanya,_

_The schedule you sent is acceptable. There has, however, been a slight change of plans. Due to unexpected emergencies, Amaya has decided to send the Katolis soldiers early. A letter to Queen Zubeia has secured her support for the transfer, and she will be watching over it with the children. This will not affect your own schedule, but if you wish to manipulate how the rumors spread, you will want to know that King Ezran plans to allow his soldiers to return to their homes if they so desire. After that, there will be no hiding their transformation._

_I certainly understand the stress of dealing with self-important nobles. The council I inherited served my sister for many years, and one adviser even served my mother. They are tiresome and resistant to change, and also quite fond of hearing themselves speak. Dinner with Amaya and Kazi is the only thing peaceful period I have, most nights._

_**She’s only saying that because she likes to poison my food for laughs.** _

_Amaya should learn that not everything on her plate is there to be bitten into._

_**It was poison. I am quite offended. The only person she should be poisoning is Obasi. If that old windbag talks down to Janai one more time, I will do it myself.** _

_Which is murder, however reasonable a suggestion it is._

_**Murderous intentions aside, we will alert you to further changes.** _

**_Janai and Amaya_ **

Janai and Amaya,

Thank you for alerting me to the schedule changes. I will put the information to good use, and gauge how the other kingdoms react. They have broken their silence, but only to send yet more strongly worded condemnations for standing against their armies. I find it amusing, as none of them are yet aware that they technically supported Viren’s treason, rendering their similar condemnation of Katolis moot. Public sentiment will turn against them easily, after their prolonged and continued silence concerning their soldiers.

My current advisers are fairly new to their positions. Due to incidents concerning my former regent and council, I had to replace the entirety of it recently. I’m certain that I will be relieving some of their duties soon, as I am learning who is there for the good of Duren, and who is there because they desire power. If only I could do the same with nobles as a whole.

Amaya is not one to speak of poisoning others, when her warnings concerning the candies were so vague. However, in her defense, one does not need to murder someone when poisoning them. From the sounds of it, death is too good for this Obasi.

Aanya

**Aanya,**

**Big news. Janai and I are married and apparently have been since the ritual. I was deemed the Queen Consort, which is, shall we say, not quite the title in Lux Aurea that it is in Katolis and Duren. We’re trying to figure out how all this is going to work, but Janai has reassured me that she will not force me to stay in Lux Aurea and rule as second queen. It’s amazingly sweet, but I refuse to simply leave forever. I just need to figure out how to best help. Unfortunately, leaving does seem to be how I can help, at least for the time being.**

**Also, I seem to have some sort of immunity to fire and cold as a result of the same ritual? We aren’t sure to what extent, but I can stick my hand in fire without pain. Actually, the sensation is quite warm and pleasant.**

**Also, Janai will be traveling with us to the border. We had privately assumed that I will not be returning with her, but that was before we knew we got married. Some investigating revealed that her people had different ideas. That was corrected quickly, as I do want to return to Katolis to see Ezran. Her council was not pleased at the -to them- unnecessary change of plans, and argued about tradition and whatnot, but she told them that she would spark the flames of change on a pyre built of a thousand years of tradition if she must. Well. She glared them down and scared the shit out of them while she did that. I think you would have enjoyed that scene. It was awe-inspiring. And now we don’t have to deal with Obasi anymore, as he was so offended that he quit.**

**We’ll speak more when we arrive at the border!**

**Amaya**

Aanya blinks. Puts down the letter. Picks it back up. Puts it down.

“ _Married_?”

Well.

Okay. That’s not nearly as surprising as it should be.

She picks up the letter again.

“A pyre built of a thousand years of tradition… Huh. It has a nice ring to it.”

**~Ezran~**

“Are you sure about letting them go?”

He sighs at Callum’s question, and can _feel_ how Corvus frowns disapprovingly behind him. Bait is more verbal in his annoyance. He knows his big brother is just worried, but it’s a question he has answered several times in the last month. Many of the council thought he was foolish for letting the prisoners go free, but what was he supposed to do? They had turned against him, turned against their fellow soldiers, and eagerly followed a traitor to war. As much as it pains him, he isn’t sure if he can trust them.

From the glares he had been given from a select few, he knows it was the right decision. If any want to stay with the army, they are free to stay; if they want to quit, they can walk away now.

Most walked away.

“I gave them a choice. They deserve at least that much, after what they’ve been through,” he says, voice almost emotionless. And, because he can sense Callum about to argue, he adds petulantly, “Aunt Amaya and Queen Janai thought it was a good idea too.”

Strangely, Callum immediately perks up. “Oh yeah!” He stops and looks around. “Let’s talk somewhere else. I have some news.”

He’s curious, but his brother is practically bouncing as Gren leads them to Aunt Amaya’s office. Even Rayla and Zym, who had settled on his shoulders and head once he arrived and hasn’t moved since, are excited. But neither will give him a hint of what the news is, and Corvus is as confused as he is.

‘ _Weird._ ’

Callum being happy isn’t surprising; he’s learning magic, lives with dragons, and is dating Rayla. There’s a confidence in him that he never had before, a sense that he has finally found a place where he belongs. Rayla, too, who wears the Dragonguard armour as if she were born in it; a true protector as she was always meant to be.

Even he has changed, according to Callum. It’s easier now, to stand proudly, to make sure his advisers listen to him. The crown is a heavy thing, but with Corvus, Opeli, and Soren at his side, it isn’t as intimidating as it used to be. Most days, it’s actually pretty boring. He won’t say that he doesn’t miss traveling, or that he doesn’t seriously consider the idea of naming a regent, but in the end, this is _his_ burden.

Harrow made many mistakes as a king. It’s only fitting that his son see to correcting them.

Besides, if anyone ever tries to overwhelm him, Corvus can be _very_ intimidating. Opeli too, and when Corvus _and_ Opeli are glaring at someone, they _leave_. Quickly. They’re the best advisers ever.

Gren shepherds them into the office, just as intrigued and out of the loop as the rest of them.

Callum shifts nervously when all eyes rest on him, his earlier excitement scattering with his courage. “Right. So, uh. This is definitely good, good news. Unexpected news, but good news! Amazing, even! Just, uh, prepare yourselves, and maybe you should sit down.”

Next to him, Rayla rolls her eyes, punches his side without even looking at him, and tells the rest of them with a smirk, “Yer General is _married_.”

Absolute.

Silence.

He blinks.

Corvus squints.

Gren tilts his head.

Zym chirps, and he gets several images in his mind in quick succession. Aunt Amaya, in Sunfire clothes. Aunt Amaya, standing next to Queen Janai at some sort of ceremony. Aunt Amaya, sitting next to Queen Janai, leaning into her and laughing while the elf blushes from whatever was said. Aunt Amaya and Queen Janai, staring at each other, a thousand words being said in that look, and soft, soft, soft smiles on their lips.

Aunt Amaya and Queen Janai.

Aunt Amaya...and Aunt Janai?

...Queen Janai...and _Queen Amaya_?!

Three shouts echo as one.

“WHAT?!”

**~Bonus~**

Rakin has been a blacksmith for far too many years to count. He was never meant to be; his family is one of farmers and traders, but he had been a too stubborn, too large, too _lazy_ boy who needed a reality check. After his endless complaining about farming, markets, and any sort of work related to his family, his father had decided to send him to the blacksmith.

His family thought the backbreaking, demanding work of a blacksmith would drive him back to farming, humble and ready to work.

Instead, he had thrived -partially to spite his father- and after years of hard work and honing his craft, he was proud to say that he was the best blacksmith in Lux Aurea.

No, this isn’t the future he ever thought he would have, but as he considers the situation in front of him, he thinks his younger self would have easier believed that he would be a blacksmith than he would believe...whatever is about to happen.

It’s never a good thing when the General has _that_ innocent look on her face. And why are there books on his countertop?

Crossing his arms, he raises his eyebrows and stares at General Amaya and Adviser Kazi. They may be two of his favorite customers, but he had been looking forward to his work slowing down after the initial rebuilding and the prisoners no longer needing chains. “How much trouble is this going to be?”

The General looks up and to the side, considering his question seriously. Then she shrugs and starts signing.

“Now that things have calmed down, I want a proper wedding band for Janai.”

“I...see?” At least, he thinks he does, until the General gives him the most despairing look he has ever seen. “...But you have no idea what to do and haven’t even started.”

The General puts her elbow on the table and rests her chin on her palm, grinning brightly. Adviser Kazi winces apologetically, but even they look distinctly out of their element.

“A wedding band for her Radiance. An armband or bracelet, I assume. And a matching one for yourself.” He sighs, already imagining the amount of research and work he’s about to take on. No generic spells and design will do for the Twin Suns of Lux Aurea, after all. “You’re lucky I like you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Janai: *is a second away from murder*  
> Amaya: "FUCK YEAH THAT'S MY WIFE"
> 
> For real though Janai has gotten intense lately.
> 
> If you're wondering, Amaya absolutely wrote letters to Ezran. Janai just lets her do that alone, since it's her nephew and all. The letters mostly consist of reminders to eat or sleep, giving him blackmail material against Corvus, and recounting other news that he needs.


	8. Three Suns

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Janai finds peace and something unexpected.
> 
> The day before she leaves, Amaya wanders through Lux Aurea with her two most constant companions: Kazi and insecurity.
> 
> The Sun watches, waits, and learns.

**~Janai~**

“Having trouble, your Radiance?”

She turns her head to the entrance of the training hall, unwilling to break her stance but not wishing to ignore her visitor. “Halim. Has something happened?”

Her newest adviser and former instructor laughs. “Serious as always. Though I suppose it’s understandable these days. I only wanted to have a conversation, but it is no emergency.”

Relieved, she allows herself to relax, though she cannot help but frown at her sword as she lowers it. Training has always been her way of relieving tension, or sorting through her emotions. Working herself into exhaustion to clear her mind was often the only peace she could find as a child. Or an adult, truthfully. Even after rising through the ranks to become the Golden Knight, there was always the sense that she did not belong. Inheriting the throne was no different, but with all the work that comes with being queen, she hasn’t had time or energy to train as she wishes. Dealing with nobles, paperwork, and her extra research for Amaya is exhausting enough in its own right.

Having found herself with some rare free time due to the holiday, she thought to return to the only place she ever truly belonged: a training room.

_‘So why has it turned out like this?’_

“So what has you so disturbed that you cannot concentrate on even your favorite pastime?”

She scowls. Not because Halim so easily discerned her emotional state -she has never been particularly skilled at hiding her emotions- but because she doesn’t understand _why_ she cannot concentrate. Her life has finally slowed to a pace she can handle, and no longer does grief haunt her every thought. Her anxieties concerning the throne and what path she must take do not consume her; she has a goal and something to fight for, even if this fight is not the sort she is used to.

“I have not held a blade since I returned from the Spire,” she says slowly. Her armour, she kept, but the blade? A sword is no help against nobles or paperwork, however much Amaya suggested it be used on both. Or how much she wanted to use it on them herself. In fact, half the reason she does not carry it on her person is because she is fully aware of how tempted she would be to brandish it at certain elves. “I thought it would be...comforting, to train as usual, however...”

However her blade feels wrong, her _heart_ feels wrong, and the fire that has seethed in her soul since the ritual is demanding something of her that she cannot understand.

Halim hums in acceptance of her answer. Narrowing his eyes, he examines her critically and says, “The blade has not changed, _you_ have. You are not who you were when you last held your weapon. You have seen death, known the greatest despair, thrown yourself into a hopeless battle, faced darkness head on, were judged by the Sun itself, then took up the scepter and crown. The pressure that you have been forced to endure in such a short amount of time has changed you, much as pressure in the earth creates precious stones.”

“We are Sunfire, not Earthblood,” she scoffs.

She is ignored with the ease of one who has spent far too many years enduring her interruptions. “Before, you fought to prove yourself worthy. Worthy of your royal blood, or your mother’s attention, or your right to lead our armies. But you have nothing left to prove. You, who have always swung your sword dreaming of acceptance, must find your center again. And where better to start than with the basics?”

Groaning would be too undignified for her status, but she very nearly does so. The basics? She, as every Sun warrior, suffered through those for the first five years of her training. Was that not enough? Halim laughs at her expression, but after insisting that mastering the basics makes a better warrior than any level of talent -as he has always done- he calls out her first task.

“Cinder Fox!”

_Be fast._

_**‘Wrong,’**_ her heart says. _**‘We cannot rush and retreat as we wish. We cannot be unreliable. We cannot think only of survival.’**_

“Charred-back Salamander!”

_Be calculating._

_**‘Wrong. We cannot be slow. We cannot waste precious seconds plotting our next move. We cannot wait for an advantage to allow us forward.’** _

“Inferno Tiger!”

_Be strong._

_**‘Wrong. We cannot rely on strength alone. We cannot throw ourselves ahead blindly. We cannot trust in ourselves alone.’** _

“Phoenix!”

_Be fearless._

_**‘Wrong! We cannot destroy everything in our path. We cannot keep moving until we are dead. We cannot take risks without fear of the consequences.’** _

“Sun.”

_Be._

She falters. The Sun? That is not a true dance. Not so far as any elf has ever determined. Where it originated from, who invented it, how it works; no warrior has ever agreed on those answers. Most cannot even agree on how it is performed; the many scrolls concerning it -all different- can only be kindly described as a random mess of stances and forms that often do not flow well together.

_**‘Move!’** _

She moves, dancing on her toes as she first learned.

_**‘Are you a sun or not? Use your fire!’** _

A blink, and fire spreads in her veins. She attacks in earnest as she did during the years she fought to prove that she was more than a princess.

_**‘So wild and wasteful. Calm yourself.’** _

She slows, reigning in her fire and emotions as she was forced to as a child and again as the Golden Knight. Lives rested on her shoulders, depended on her orders. Carelessness could not be tolerated.

_**‘Do not fear your fire.’** _

She attacks fiercely, as she did during the Battle of the Spire.

_**‘Fool. The Sun is all. The Sun is none.’** _

She thinks of her people, and defends.

She thinks of Khessa, and lets loose her rage.

She thinks of Amaya, and dances.

 _**‘Now you have it. Just** _ **be _.’_**

When the dance ends, her heart is silent and calmer than it has been since the ritual. Her body trembles, her breathing is labored, and she is glowing from heat-being mode.

But she is glowing _yellow_.

“...Well. Your skills are remarkable as always…but I don’t recall yellow being your color,” Halim says. She almost jumps, as she had forgotten he was present. Has she been like this since she shifted into heat-being mode? How had she not noticed?

“It...wasn’t,” she answers slowly. This change...is it because of the Sun’s judgement, or something else? The mages all made a point to exclaim how blessed she -and Amaya- was to survive the full force of the Sun’s judgement without the sacred staff to guide its rays. Is that what caused this? And what is that voice? This is the second time she has imagined it speaking to her, yet it isn’t one she recognizes. “My inner fire has been different since the ritual, but I had assumed that it was merely restlessness. I should have known better, after discovering Amaya’s new abilities.”

Halim immediately holds up his hands. “Wait! Wait. What about the General?”

Ah. She hadn’t meant to speak out loud. Her internal debate over telling him the truth does not, however, last long. Halim is one of the few she trusts implicitly.

“The Sun saw fit to grant her a true Heart of Fire, though we have yet to determine the full extent of her abilities,” she says plainly, as if a human being blessed by the Sun is a common occurrence in their life. Then again, considering all the _other_ odd situations that have occurred lately, it may as well be. It isn’t as though Amaya is the first human to be capable of some sort of primal ability in this day and age.

Halim, of course, accepts it with little more than a blink. He is fond of Amaya, for her strength, character, and, as he insisted after his first council meeting, ability to make his favorite old student stumble over her words. Frustrating as his teasing can be, she wishes he had been promoted sooner than this last week; he would not have hesitated to joke about her “marriage,” which would have at least given her _some_ warning before Zubeia’s visit and subsequent blessing. Unfortunately, he had been needed on the border, setting up the outpost and preparing one of his other proteges, Akier, for taking command.

“All the better, then, that I wanted to suggest crafting her _proper_ royal Sunfire armour.”

Raising her eyebrows, she tries to picture Amaya in true Sunfire armour, and finds the image quite pleasing. It is not so very difficult to imagine, when it has been so long since Amaya wore her Katolian armour that she has nearly forgotten what it looks like. The tunics which once looked strange on the human now look as natural as if she had been born in Lux Aurea.

“Such a project will take much time to complete,” she notes absently.

Halim hums. “Yes. Perhaps by the time it is done, your wife will be ready to accept it.”

Accept the armour. Accept the title of queen. Accept Lux Aurea. Accept _her_.

She sighs and _now_ curses Halim’s perceptiveness. Of course he would notice that the relationship between the Twin Suns of Lux Aurea is not as the public thinks. “...She will do as she wishes.”

And then she returns to her training, for there is nothing else to say on the matter. She had made her promise to Amaya, had sworn that she would never burden her with duties to Lux Aurea. No force in Xadia or beyond will see that promise broken.

Especially not her own uncertain feelings concerning the woman who was first her enemy, then her friend, then her wife.

“Really Janai,” Halim sighs eventually. “You are too kind for your own good.”

She thinks of Khessa, who often insisted the same thing, in much the same tone, over the years. She thinks of the Sun, how it warned her of what could happen if she is too free with her heart. She thinks of Amaya, of her bright smiles and warm eyes that she will give anything to protect.

She thinks of all those things for not the first or last time, and smiles bitterly. “Yes, I’m aware.”

**~Amaya~**

If, half a year ago, anyone tried to tell her that she would willingly step foot in the home of the Sunfire elves, she would have thought them crazy.

If they dared say that she would enjoy her time there, she would have sneered.

If they said that she would miss it before she even left, she would have punched them.

It makes it all the stranger, then, that she finds herself wandering through the streets of Lux Aurea, desperately taking in every sight as if it will be her last time. And _what_ a sight it is today; the Day of Family. Rune-decorated banners hang from every building, streamers are floating through the air, and strings of crystals zigzag above the streets. Everything is red, gold and white, though the confetti that litters the street has no such color prejudice.

Not even the streams are spared from the confetti, granting the waters the appearance of a sparkling kaleidoscope of colors floating throughout the city.

At the heart of the festival will be the market district, which has been in an uproar for the last several days as shops and stalls prepared for the festivities.

Kazi and Janai claim that this is not the grandest festival Lux Aurea holds, for that title goes to the Sunrise Festival. Due to Viren’s corruption of the Sun, the Sunrise Festival had been canceled, the city instead gathering to pray for the then Golden Knight as she faced the corruption. She had not understood the significance of the day to the people then, or for a long time after, but saving the source of their power on Midsummer Day certainly enhances Janai’s reputation. Which, by default, enhances her own, as the people of Lux Aurea consider them to be an inseparable pair.

Stopping abruptly, she holds out an arm to keep Kazi from walking forward. A split second later, a veritable herd of paint-covered children rush past, all holding up banners and streamers. Screaming, too, though she can’t hear them. From how Kazi and several others nearby wince, the children must be quite loud. Few seem to actually mind, however, which she understands. Seeing children so cheerful is never something she will take for granted again. Not after she watched Viren’s army cut down so many.

“I remember being so young and reckless,” she signs at Kazi.

The look Kazi gives her is so full of disbelief that she’s almost proud; the Kazi of three months ago would never have dared look at her like that. “You are _still_ that reckless.”

“You forgot young!” she corrects with a smirk.

Kazi pauses at that. “For an elf, perhaps,” they sign slowly, as is their habit when they are communicating before fully thinking out their words. “But human life expectancy is much lower than ours.”

Has she just been called old in a roundabout sort of way?

...Wait. “For an elf.” Because. Right. Elves live longer than humans.

 _Much_ longer.

Several implications of that perfectly normal statement come to her at once, but most importantly…

“How old is Janai?” It’s a valid question. Janai is her wife, and, most importantly, her friend. That really is information she ought to know, but the question has strangely never come up in their conversations. Elves consider it just as rude to comment on someone’s age as humans do, and she had been content with the assumption that Janai is close to her own age. Now she’s starting to wonder.

Before Kazi can answer, another herd of children stampedes through the already crowded streets. They swarm around them like water over boulders, screaming all the while but not without remembering to greet her as most of the Sunfire have started to recently; by patting their heart. It isn’t a proper bow, or even a proper Sunfire sign. As far as she can tell, it is essentially something created specifically for her, and possibly Janai as well. She is a Twin Sun of Lux Aurea with a Heart of Fire, so they pat their hearts twice with both their hands in the same position they use for a formal bow. She isn’t sure who came up with the greeting or how its usage spread so quickly, but she highly suspects Rakin or the Sun Warriors -the first she noticed using it- to be responsible.

The level of affection Lux Aurea’s common citizens hold for their queens continues to astound her. They have a special title, they have a special bow. She cannot walk ten steps in the city without being greeted or bowed to. She cannot purchase anything without being given extra. Eyes follow her every step, but far from being judgemental, they are filled with awe or excitement.

The attention is unnerving; even more so now that she understands what role she is accidentally playing. Not even the citizens of Katolis had watched Sarai so fondly, and she was known to be one of the more popular queens. It’s something she tries not to think about, the faint implication that she is better than her sister somehow.

Sarai was always the best.

Sister.

Warrior.

Mother.

Queen.

Her? She isn’t a real queen. Not in any way the Sunfire think her to be. Janai is the one working the most, _suffering_ the most. Her own contributions to Lux Aurea amount to little more than serving as a glorified secretary, spending her time sorting through the unending requests sent to Janai, deciding which are urgent, which only need a signature, and which should be trashed. With the position of Golden Knight vacant, she had also taken over the bulk of that work until Halim returned to fill his new role as military adviser.

Emphasis on _taken_. As in, she had stared Janai down and very deliberately grabbed the stack of paperwork with the Sun Warrior stamps two weeks into her stay. In spite of the glare her actions received, Janai had relented with a huff and a “do what you will.”

As Kazi once claimed, there is very little that Janai denies her.

Spotting the stall that sells the marshmallow cookies that Janai can and _will_ deny to share with her -because they are unofficial “bribe candies” and bribes don’t need to be shared, so Janai insists- she grins and immediately drags Kazi over. The owners greet their favorite customers excitedly, rambling about the festival, the customers, the events happening later, and how wonderful it is to see one of their queens among them. They speak too fast for Kazi to translate it all, but she understands the gist of the conversation.

She smiles kindly, she chuckles at hopefully the right times, she orders a bag of cookies and receives two.

But isn’t that a thought? One of the queens. Among them. The people. The people that love them. _Janai’s_ people, who love their legendary queens.

The beginnings of a _marvelous_ idea forming in her head, she turns to Kazi triumphantly. Ignoring how her friend steps back, she asks, “How many traditions can I get away with breaking tonight?”

Kazi’s answering, “oh no,” is verbal, but their entire posture is already sinking into one of tired resignation.

Oh yes. Her last night in Lux Aurea _will_ be something to remember. The people want their queens, and they will get their queens.

Both of them.

**~The Sun~**

To say that Lux Aurea’s Sun, the source of their power, has a soul would be a lie.

But to say that it does not have a consciousness is not entirely accurate either.

The Sun has seen the hearts of countless Sunfire, the leaders and mages who touched its power. The echoes of their hearts linger within the Sun, building upon each other to form a young voice. No, not even a voice, but a hint of consciousness that only wakes when its power is called upon.

Humans and elves are such complicated creatures. They have too many thoughts and too many emotions at all times, even when its rays are turned on them. They want to live, fight, and love. They fear, hate, and despise. All those things, all at once, are revealed to the Sun, over and over and over again. They show the Sun their heart, and in turn it shows them what they lack.

_**Worthy.** _

**_Unworthy._ **

**_Queen._ **

**_Failure._ **

**_Mage._ **

**_Tainted._ **

**_Pure._ **

Until it goes _dark_.

That poison. That choking, diseased magic that eclipsed its light and tainted its core. The Sun does not have a soul, does not have emotions with which to care for the guardians of its power or the poor souls it is tasked to judge, but all the echoes of leaders and queens past coalesce in their shared hatred of the darkness. The darkness growls back, smug in its victory, and no matter how much the Sun hates, it cannot change its fate. Fire does not change, it simply _is_.

But others can be a catalyst for change.

Their catalyst comes in the form of one bearing their Heart of Fire. It is a small light, a single star in the dark, but it - _ **she**_ **-** reaches out and grabs the darkness.

She fights, her weak light straining. It senses her strength, watches her struggle, and understands her resolve to burn her own Heart out to eradicate the darkness.

What a brave little star, to face the darkness so. What a shame that it must die, but such is the way of things.

Living beings, of course, are not so easy to predict.

Another star abruptly joins the fight. This is a strange one. No Heart of Fire, no fire in its veins. Merely a lone star with a will so strong that it almost doesn’t need fire. The new star gives the first a much needed boost, and where there would have been death, suddenly there is life. The darkness withers away from the combined force of their determination, as do the spells of the mages, allowing the Sun to look upon them without interference.

_**They grieve for all those lost.** _

**_They shoulder pain from their pasts._ **

**_They fear for their people._ **

**_They love their people._ **

**_They want to protect._ **

**_They want peace._ **

**_They trust each other._ **

**_They will die for each other. For their people. For hope._ **

**_They are worthy._ **

**_And they have saved us. Should we not reward them in turn?_ **

The Sun does not reward hearts for being worthy. But then, the Sun has never been tainted, or been saved, or had a voice before.

The first star, the Sunfire, already has a Heart of Fire. What can it give that one?

_**More power, to match her resolve.** _

Yes. It saw desire for peace, for _change_ in her, and saw the potential in her. If there is to be change, a fire will be needed to burn down the old world, and so it gives her the power to do so.

The second star is easy. A Heart of Fire is granted to that determined light. But what else can it give?

_**This one is not a wildfire, it is an explosion.** _

Fire will not run through her veins as it does in the first; this one is too calm, too collected to let loose her emotions in such a way. _Her_ fire will not simmer, it will smolder silently while it awaits a spark.

Satisfied with its work, the Sun releases them. Whether the stars will ever learn to use the strength they have been gifted, or if they will use them for good, the Sun cannot predict. It has faith, however, for it has seen their hearts.

From then, it watches. The Sunfire all are akin to tiny stars to the Sun, but _those_ two, they are brighter, and connected to the Sun due to the sliver of its power they hold. It can always sense them, is aware of their hearts in a way it does not fully understand. Sometimes, its consciousness can reach them. When they are emotional, more in touch with their hearts and fire, it can reach across the strange connection. And in those brief glimpses, it _learns_.

Learns about devotion, and duty, and sacrifice.

The parts of its consciousness that is made up of leaders and queens quite like those three things in particular. The voices are eager to encourage their stars, stretching the limits of its newfound consciousness. The stars cannot understand the Sun properly, but someday they will. They are still young and learning, growing brighter as time passes.

And as those two walk among the smaller stars of the Sunfire, it takes special note of how the tiny stars grow just a bit brighter from the presence of their Twin Suns, invigorated by their light.

A star here.

 _A child rescued by the Golden Knight_.

A star there.

_A farmer saved by the General._

Clusters of stars.

_The Sun Warriors who had not hesitated to follow the Golden Knight to certain death._

So many, scattered throughout the city.

_The common merchants that found a friend in the General._

_The mages and guards who had watched the Golden Knight and General fight to purify their Sun._

_The children who live for their weekly playtime with the General._

_The palace servants who have been treated kindly by both queens._

Some are brighter than others.

_A blacksmith proud to call the General his friend, even if she brings him far more work than he sometimes appreciates._

_A veteran warrior, thrilled to watch his old student become flustered over the flirting of the most amusing human in the continent._

_A scholar who, despite their humble origins, stands with the two queens more often than not, their loyalty unquestioning and unbreakable._

The Sunfire of Lux Aurea love their queens.

And in its own way, so too does the Sun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a hard one to write, because it needed to serve as a bridge between Janai's arc and Amaya's arc. It's like a filler, but still important. But now we get to go back to Katolis, and have ourselves some long distance mutual pining! Not to mention deal with the repercussions of the marriage and what that means for Ezran and the Standing Battalion.
> 
> The delay may or may not be partially due to me watching/reading all of My Hero Academia after I published the last chapter (I was hooked). Then getting sick from stomach flu or something (20/10 DO NOT recommend whatever the fuck that was).


	9. Appearances (Halim)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amaya makes sure that the Sunfire's festival ends up being extra special this year.
> 
> Two old friends meet up (but only one of them is thrilled about it).

_“It’s bigger than our old house.”_

_She cringes at Amaya’s unimpressed expression and lackluster signing. Her sister isn’t wrong, either, which makes it all the worse. They’ve never had much to call their own; their house was taken from them when their parents died, and the small room they rented for years was about as big as the rooms in the soldier’s barracks._

_Her single box of belongings looks pathetically small next to the queen’s bed alone, much less compared to the whole room. Outside of her weapon and uniforms, her entire life fits into that single box. In her defense, most of her coin goes to making sure Callum is comfortable and fed, but even so, it’s almost embarrassing._

_“Perks of being queen...I guess,” she signs back._

_Queen._

_She isn’t used to that word yet, but standing in this room makes her situation all the more real. She is engaged. To Harrow. The king. Which means she will be the_ queen _._

_To say that she isn’t afraid would be a lie; her military training won’t help her, and the nobles won’t hesitate to strike at any weakness. But she knew what she was getting into from the first time Harrow stood before her, blushing and stuttering his way through asking her out on a proper date. Intimidating as it is, she wouldn’t have accepted the proposal if she didn’t think she could handle it. Didn’t think Harrow is worth it._

_And besides, with Amaya at her side, she knows she can take on every noble in the human realms if she has to._

**~Amaya~**

She has attended countless festivals in her life; with Sarai or with the boys. They’re all the same no matter the occasion, with too much food and too many games and too many people and too much _everything_ to keep track of. For all that she enjoys the lively atmosphere, they’re exhausting. Especially when she often ends up chasing after a hyper Ezran and Callum, using all of her dodging abilities to keep up with the far smaller boys in the crowd.

The festival in Lux Aurea is very different. The atmosphere is the same, and there is just as much entertainment as any Katolis festival, but where she is merely another person among the throng back home, here the entire city is a stage, and she stands upon the center of it.

Well, Janai and her do.

The elves are eager to give them a subtle berth, watching, whispering, and attempting to bow, only for Janai to assure them that no such thing is necessary on this night. The elderly elves look mildly scandalized at such assurances, the adults confused, and the children? The children take it as permission to run up and ply them with candy and chatter about where the best food is and can her Radiance call her inferno tiger and are they going to send a boat with them where are they going to be can they meet them there and send theirs too and-

And then they get dragged away by their horrified parents as Janai calls out that they will be at the central pavilion to send out boats. She is fighting a grin because she’s supposed to be a stern authority figure, but Janai is, at heart, an absolute softy for small and cute things.

Which, she realizes for the first time, includes herself.

None can blame the children for their curiosity, as the Queen _should_ spend the festival at the elbows of nobles and council members, far away from the commoners.

When she had suggested adding that tradition to the pyre devoted to change, Janai had agreed nearly before Kazi finished interpreting.

Being the center of so much attention is unnerving to them both. They are soldiers, born and bred for the rush of battle, and three months isn’t enough time to grow comfortable with the way all of Lux Aurea watches them. Word gets out quickly that the Twin Suns are walking among them, intent on enjoying the festival with the regular citizens. Within an hour, the elves move past their shock and into excitement. 

They stop at every stall, and are given free items no matter how much they insist on spending money. The merchants are practically glowing as they welcome them, though whether that is due to the chance to speak to their queens or because their presence will bring them extra business, she can’t say. Those most familiar with _her_ are the most excited to see them, eagerly pressing extras of the treats they know she prefers into her hands.

They try every game; just for fun, until their competitive sides get the better of them. She’s no slouch at festival games thanks to a longstanding competition with Sarai that started in their childhood, but Janai is _unfairly_ good at ring toss games. She’s awful at most other games, which is about the only concession to her ego that the night makes, as Kazi beats them both at every other game.

A stop at a painting booth sees them leaving with more painted than clear skin courtesy the excitable children and teens. Flames, stars, and animals she doesn’t know the name of decorate her arms and face. More than one elf is entranced by her short ears and lack of horns. She suspects that if she wasn’t their queen, she would have been subjected to countless head and ear rubs by curious children. It is, by far, the most harrowing -non-life threatening- experience she has ever endured.

At one point, Kazi is accosted by a woman who, they sheepishly explain later, is their sister. The interaction is brief; the woman, Nneka, hugs Kazi and spins them around, slaps half a dozen stickers on her dizzy sibling, turns to bow to them, then disappears back into the crowd. They tease the interpreter, pointing out how they didn’t expect Kazi’s sister to be so energetic when Kazi is very much not. Gently, they try to insist that Kazi need not accompany them for the festival if they would prefer to spend it with their family, but they shrug off their concerns and say only that they will be spending the night with their family after the festival anyway.

That doesn’t reassure them as much as Kazi probably thinks it does, as they’re due to leave for the Breach early in the morning.

Halim walks with them for a time, grateful for their breaking of tradition. As a council member, he would have been obligated to join the queens at whichever noble’s party they deigned to attend, which, he informs them with a scowl, is _not_ his idea of a good time. Janai chuckles at that, quick to agree even though she really shouldn’t, but her mirth is lost when he starts telling stories of Janai’s youth.

She, of course, is ecstatic to hear all of Janai’s embarrassing stories. There are none who have stories of that nature among the staff and soldiers she interacts with daily, and anything that makes Janai blush is a good thing. Halim, being Janai’s trainer since childhood, has more than enough to make up for the lack.

But Halim, she discovers, is not one to spare any of his friends from embarrassment. And it turns out that she is now counted among his friends. “She made quite a vision, half red and half yellow, and she scowled and muttered to herself the entire rest of that week. A habit, I might add, that she has yet to break. Not that you aren’t already aware of that, considering you prefer to read her lips rather than rely on Adviser Kazi’s interpretations as you do with all others.”

Janai takes the comment for what it is, and huffs, visibly restraining herself from doing exactly what she is being teased about.

She takes in the comment, notes his raised eyebrow and smirk, and understands what he’s _implying_. Corvus has spent years trying to make her blush, and has failed every attempt; Halim manages within weeks of his return to Lux Aurea by speaking the simple truth.

She really, really likes to stare at Janai, at any time, for any reason, for as long as she can get away with it.

He departs soon after, strutting with the satisfaction of having made both women blush. They turn away from the market district then, heading to the central pavilion for the final event of the festival.

On their way, Rakin crosses their path. He is eager to greet them, but is quickly distracted by the plush inferno tiger in her arms. The plush is technically Janai’s -a prize from a ring toss game- but she had handed it over to let her examine it, and never asked for it back. Just as well, because the fur it’s made of is ridiculously soft, and its tails are just long enough that she can flick them over to hit Janai; something that has yet to cease amusing her.

Rakin takes one look at the plush, and his face lights up. “That’s it!” he declares without explanation. “You’re brilliant, General!”

He is gone before they have a chance to return his greeting. His son, abandoned without nary a word, sighs and apologizes profusely for his behavior. “That usually means he has a new idea for a project. I better track him down before mom kills us both. If you’ll excuse me, your Radiance.”

Suspecting what project Rakin is thinking of, she skillfully distracts Janai from questioning the short meeting. It helps that their destination -the largest pavilion in the city and the crossroads between the market, housing, and palace districts- is crowded to the point that she suspects all the elves of Lux Aurea are present. The non-noble elves, at any rate. They have no problem making their way to the pavilion, however; the elves are quick to make a path for them once they are spotted.

It is here that Kazi leaves their side for the night. This moment, this path, is for Twin Suns and the Twin Suns alone. She had hoped to have a night where they did not need to be queens to such a significant degree, but she supposes this is the price of breaking tradition. The price of being loved.

It’s a love she doesn’t deserve, but she tries not to think about that when the eyes of the half the city are upon her.

What a sight they must make, two queens dressed in plain tunics, covered with an absurd amount of paint and festival jewelry, bags of treats at their backs and her carrying a stuffed animal. She’s sure they look ridiculous, but out of determination to make the best of this, she grabs Janai’s hand and pulls her close. She half expects a protest, but Janai only glances at her, lips twitching into a smile and a hint of a blush on her cheeks.

It takes two minutes at most to reach the pavilion; a short walk, though it may as well have been to Katolis and back for how long it felt. When they arrive, they are greeted not by adults, but by a pavilion full of children. Janai relaxes at the sight, letting go of her hand when they reach the edge of the waterway that runs through the center.

It has been months since she last felt anything resembling coldness, but her hand feels peculiarly empty and cool at the loss of Janai’s firm hold.

She berates herself for being so affected by _handholding_ as she pulls out the paper boat Kazi had taught her to make. They’re simple little things, made out of special paper designed to burst into flame when touched by a certain spell. What makes them truly special are the name runes written with special ink on them.

Names of the lost and departed, to be more specific.

They crouch to send their little boats sailing, and it is the only sign the people need to do so themselves. They’re playing it by ear, queen and citizen alike, but it goes without saying that the elves will always wait for the queens to make their move first. She watches their boats as more and more join them in the water. Her Sunfire rune literacy is a work in progress, but she has learned more than enough to have written Sarai’s name on her boat, and to read Khessa’s on Janai’s boat.

Just before midnight, the runes painted on the edge of the waterway glow as a warning for any not immune to fire to step back. She debates whether or not she wants to stand back -the novelty of being fireproof hasn’t worn off yet- but Janai grabs her hand to pull her back. Relenting to the order is easy; she has far more opportunities to play with fire than she does to hold Janai’s hand without consequence.

At midnight exactly the runes flare, a single orange line of light spreading from them in an arc across the top of the water and lighting the boats on fire. They burn quickly, but they aren’t meant to last. Their true purpose is to serve as fuel for the fires that coalesce into the ink on each boat, until there is nothing left but runes pulsing red and yellow and orange and gold floating above the water.

When she looks down the waterway, all she can see are the indistinct lights that are the memorial to all those the Sunfire have gathered to remember, and the red yellow orange gold waters that reflect them. The waterway is the lifeblood of the city, and on this night it _glows_ with the names of all that have been lost, the reassurances that those alive still remember and think of them.

Janai tugs at her hand again to get her attention, and when it is given, she signs carefully with her one free hand. “Time to go home.”

_Home_.

Taking in the sight of her sister’s name surrounded by the names of Sunfire elves one last time, burning it in her memory, the part of her that desperately wants to believe in souls and ghosts and their ability to watch over them hopes that Sarai agrees that she is in good company here. Hopes that somehow, someway, her sister could understand how she has come to love Lux Aurea, its people, and its queen.

But mostly, she wishes her sister could be there to tell her that it’s _okay_ to love Lux Aurea as much as she loves Katolis, because, gods help her, she really, truly does.

**~Halim~**

The streets of Lux Aurea are empty the morning after the festival. It’s nice, he thinks, to have the entire street to himself. No children running wild, no parents running after them slightly less wildly, no messengers dodging through the crowd haphazardly, no _crowd_ at all to wade through. He is not so recognizable that others will part for his presence, though he has trained many soldiers-including Queen Janai herself- and is now an Adviser on the Queen’s Council.

Some council members would find such a lack of recognition disrespectful and insulting; he finds it a relief. The only reason he took the position is because his predecessor had perished with Queen Khessa atop the Sunforge, and there were no others who had the knowledge, experience, skill, and Janai’s trust as he did. His old pupil had stood before him, her soul lost and heart bleeding from her losses, and asked him to take the position when she returned from the Storm Spire.

The idea of saying “no” had never crossed his mind.

His official appointment had been put off while he spent his time at the Breach, which gave him plenty of time to mentally prepare himself for the headaches that the rest of the council was certain to cause him. His hopes had, however, been restored in his very first meeting, where Janai was a hair away from slaughtering certain council members and declared that she would burn any and all of the Sunfire traditions that she needed to.

He had been so proud.

Scared nearly to death, but also proud.

The work for the council kept him busy, but with Janai and Amaya on their way to the Breach, he has the next several days free of meetings and paperwork. He still has work of course, but the work that brings him to the maker’s district is not exactly official.

Slipping into his third home -with the first two being his true home and the training yard- he makes certain to open the door extra hard. The harsh jingling of the bell breaks the silence of the shop, and prompts a curse from the owner, who is hunched over the desk, papers and pencils scattered around him.

“What do you want? I’m trying to work!”

Shaking his head, he sighs and says, “It’s the morning after a festival! Why are you working at all?”

Rakin spares him a scowl, but his attention quickly returns to his work. “I had some inspiration and didn’t want to lose it. What brings the esteemed Adviser Halim to my humble shop? It’s been _months_ since you last deigned to visit.”

He deserves that sarcasm, he admits to himself. The last time they saw each other was just after the evacuation. He had barely had time to ensure Rakin and his family were well before his time was consumed with keeping the few warriors left organized and the people calm, and then he marched off to the Breach.

“Oh, you know. Just visiting my best friend,” he sings, ignoring the grouchiness and sarcasm with the ease that thirty years of friendship -and twenty years of training soldiers- brings.

Slowly, Rakin puts his pencil down and stares at him suspiciously. “If you think I have forgotten what that grin means, you will be sorely disappointed. General Amaya has been a frequent visitor.”

“It’s a good thing you are fond of us both then, isn’t it?” he says with a laugh.

“I haven’t had nearly enough sleep to put up with you, Halim,” Rakin groans.

That, too, he ignores, choosing instead to take a peek at his friend’s project. The pages all have wildly different designs, but there is no denying what they are. “Wedding bands?

Rakin nods, staring at him out of the corner of his eye as if he can sense how his wrist itches. It’s a phantom sensation summoned by the memory of the band he proudly wore when he was young and foolish. That was many, many years ago, but every now and then he will see a wristband and be reminded of the price he once paid for his arrogance.

For all the pain his past has brought him, his determination to spare others that pain earned him his reputation as the best trainer of the Sun Warriors. It was because of his reputation that he was assigned to Janai, but that, he thinks, was a disservice to the child; Janai never believed herself good enough at _anything_ to be at risk of becoming arrogant in the way most nobles or unduly talented elves are.

“For the queens.”

He raises his eyebrows, certain that Janai had never mentioned this.

“General Amaya and Adviser Kazi asked me to assist with the design while they research runes.”

“ _Amaya_ did?” he blurts out, surprised.

And despite his friend’s odd look, he certainly has reason to be. Anyone with a functional pair of eyes can see that the queens are fond of each other -some might even say they’re in love- but their public and private relationships are markedly different than the general assumption. Unfortunately, whatever their personal feelings, the shadow of the crown is too great to ignore, and its weight strains the relationship between them.

Janai loves Amaya the only way she knows how: selflessly. She will shoulder every burden in the world without complaint, if it means that Amaya does not suffer. Especially if one of those burdens is her own feelings.

Amaya is a little more complicated. She flirts shamelessly, and when she watches Janai it is with amusement, longing, or guilt. The first because Janai is easily flustered by the flirting -that she notices- the second because the human is unquestionably in love with her wife to some degree, and the third because it is obvious that while every bone in her body demands she support Janai, “queen” is a title that she cannot yet bring herself to bear.

Janai and Amaya may have gotten married in the most dramatic, unusual way possible, but most of what he has learned about their relationship implies that it has been built on a foundation of quiet actions and private conversations.

Wedding bands...are not either of those things.

To be a queen is to live in the public’s eye. Every choice and every action they make outside their personal rooms is constantly examined and critiqued, down to what clothes they wear. Janai can get away with wearing her armour at the moment, because she was a warrior before she was a queen, and Golden Knight is not a title taken lightly. Amaya is given much leeway for being human, though having her outfitted by the royal tailor was a wise decision on Janai’s part.

The lack of wedding bands has, of course, been noted by many, but as they are not items to be made or given lightly, few expect them to be worn by the queens. Careful thought must go into their creation; from the design to the jewels to the runes, proper wedding bands can take upwards of a year to make. They aren’t merely a symbol of love, for any fool can fall in love, but of something far more precious.

The design is meant to represent the understanding of their partner’s soul.

The jewels are to represent the binding of their hearts.

The runes are to represent the binding of their soul, as well as the core tenets of the relationship.

Amaya would not know this, for she is a human, but Kazi cannot claim the same ignorance. The interpreter would _never_ allow this decision to be made without a thorough explanation of the tradition and significance of offering wedding bands.

This was not a decision made by someone who intends to leave, or stay out of the public’s eye. Not when less significant alternatives like horn jewelry or bracelets exist.

Stealing the paper that Rakin is furiously tapping his pencil against -and ignoring the growl it earns him- he stares at the beginnings of a truly elegant design based on an inferno tiger. “It seems I underestimated Amaya. Well. All the more reason to commission the armour for her.”

“Armour? Is that why you dragged yourself out of the palace? ...Wait, what _kind_ of armour?”

“Royal armour, obviously!” he answers cheerfully. “To be fireproofed in the Sunforge.”

Rakin squints at him in confusion. “You want Sunforge armour for a human?”

“Of course. While we may not know yet what manner of power she has, she does indeed have a Heart of Fire. As such, it is only sensible to take the precaution of ensuring her armour can withstand fire. ”

“...What?”

“It was given to her by the Sun. Hopefully, we will discover what abilities she has before the runes are added, but best to plan for the usual regardless.”

Rakin makes a low, strangled sort of noise, slowly takes a deep breath, and promptly pushes aside all his sketches. “These designs will not work with fireproof metals. I’ll need to rethink this.”

He almost laughs. It’s a tamer reaction to the sudden change of plans than he expected, which means his friend is well and truly dumbfounded by the knowledge that Amaya has a Heart of Fire. Were he a nicer friend, he would never dream of taking advantage of this temporary weakness.

But he did not make it to his position by being _nice_.

“I’ll leave the basic information for the armour with you.” He drops the papers on the desk on the other side of the now useless wristband designs, and walks away quickly. “Get back to me when you have some designs to choose from!”

His words are followed by the slamming of the door. The noise echoes in the street, but at this time of day there is no one out to yell at him for it. He expects that Rakin will hunt him down later to argue with him about the sudden extra work and the -deliberate- lack of information, but he has several hours before he needs to worry about it.

Until then, he has not yet had breakfast, and the market district is the _perfect_ place to gauge the public opinion of last night’s festival. With so many of their traditions being... _modified_ , and the strangeness of the world these days, it is imperative that they not alienate the citizens.

“The things I do for my students,” he grumbles to himself. “It was so much easier when all I had to do was beat them into the ground.”

But no matter; the “promotion” to council member is well worth the price, considering it gives him a front row seat to the endlessly entertaining romance between Janai and Amaya.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this...did not turn out how I expected it to. The festival was supposed to just be a short flashback, and then we would move on to the border, but. Um. It got out of hand? And then I had to spend days trying to figure out how to make it all work. SO! Even though we're still in Lux Aurea for this chapter, don't be fooled. Emotionally it's now flipped and is more about Amaya trying to find her place.
> 
> The flashbacks are going to be in Sarai and Khessa's povs now, and I hope you enjoy them!


	10. Readjust (Akier)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The prisoners -and Amaya- finally head home. Janai isn't anxious. Not at all.
> 
> A Sunfire thought he had figured out how to best handle humans. He didn't account for a not-quite-human, however.

_Weaving through the crowd of nobles and similarly important elves is easier than it ought to be for a queen. Part of her success is due to the generous amounts of alcohol being provided to the guests -it’s the only thing that makes most of these nobles sufferable- and the rest of it is due to her skill in avoiding conversation._

_The ability to do so without causing offense_ is _a skill, despite Janai’s disbelief whenever she insists so. Janai may be a royal by birth, but she has always been destined for the world of swords, blood, and fire. Politics is no less violent in its own way, though warriors of Janai’s kind are notorious for being incapable of sparring on that particular battlefield._

 _“I suppose I should be grateful you stayed for_ half _the party this year.”_

 _Her sister has the grace to look ashamed at being caught, as if they have not performed this same farce every year for the last several. She would be more annoyed if Janai weren’t so_ cute _when she fails to hide her blush or guilty expression._

_“Several nobles were inquiring about your location. Something about dancing-”_

_Janai’s lips lift in a sneer, and she makes the disgusted noise in the back of her throat that she typically reserves for overly-sugary sweets._

_She scoffs. It’s just the reaction she expected, but she finds it no less amusing. However much her sister complains, the party has been a success. After years of this exact occurrence, few expect Janai to stay at her own party._

_Which is exactly what she_ planned _to achieve when she first insisted that her sister’s birthday be celebrated with a royal party. It brings her attention to the nobles just enough to remind them that they don’t think Janai is worth bothering with. Their interest thus diverted -and Janai spared the annoyance that is living up to the Council’s ever changing expectations- the nobles return to squabbling amongst themselves for the Queen’s attention. It’s so utterly predictable, all of it._

_Predictable is boring._

_But predictable is_ safe _._

 _And the safety of her people -of her_ sister _\- is the only thing that matters._

**~Janai~**

She is no stranger to extended missions or sleeping under the stars. Her time as a mere footsoldier -as “mere” as a princess could be, at any rate- saw many such nights. They were less frequent as she rose through the ranks, and then nonexistent for years before she took her soldiers to patrol the border. Golden Knight is the highest rank an elf can attain in Lux Aurea, and as with all high ranking positions, it comes with an offensive amount of paperwork that almost made her regret challenging for the position.

Now, after her short time as queen, she can only look upon her old self and laugh. What she wouldn’t give to have _merely_ the amount of paperwork that the Golden Knight does.

Though they are three days into their five and a half day trip to the Breach, she cannot help but relish the feeling of flying; the wind rushing around her, the sun’s rays on her skin, the whooshing of Italu’s wings. It’s as close to freedom as she has ever felt, and it is something that she has sorely needed of late. In the sky, she can almost forget that her life has been irrevocably changed in such a short amount of time, can forget that she has lost all that was left of her family, led many soldiers to their death, and saw her city suffering in a way that scarred their souls.

She can once again be a simple warrior for a brief, wonderful moment.

“I see you are thrilled at the reprieve from your duties,” Zubeia comments. The dragon queen is gliding just above her, watching for unexpected threats. With the transformed humans their prisoners, their lands closest to the border, and the Moonshadow’s unwillingness to get involved, Zubeia had quickly ruled that all interactions with the humans be dealt with by Lux Aurea or herself. None of the other elven leaders have seen fit to interfere with the Sunfire, but there is always the chance that the dark mage would attack them.

“My dreams consist of council meetings and paperwork of late. I am beginning to fear for my sanity,” she complains with a scowl. It isn’t an exaggeration either. Just the other day, she had woken in a panic, absolutely _certain_ that she was late to a meeting. Luckily, she had managed to remember that there was no meeting that day _before_ she made it out of the room.

Unlike the last time she had woken with the same delusional belief. Her belated confusion when she had bolted into the kitchen for a quick breakfast that morning had been met by _Amaya’s_ confusion at seeing her half-dressed before the sun had risen. Thankfully, her immediate -and entirely reasonable- horror at seeing Amaya with a pot in hand had overtaken her confusion, leading her to immediately berate the human for daring to touch any item even remotely related to the oven before she was forced to explain herself.

Zubeia laughs at her words. “This is a sentiment I understand. The meetings and arguments amongst the others since the battle have become...tiresome. Enough so that I, at times, wish I had been even half as scathing as you were during that first meeting.”

Scathing is, perhaps, an incomplete description of the words that were said during the meeting before she returned to Lux Aurea. She had suspected that the meeting would not turn out well for various reasons as soon as she received news that the other leaders would arrive. Elves and dragons are, by nature, annoying to deal with at any point in time, so it was with reticence that she attended at all. It had taken little time for her fears to be proven correct; the meeting hadn’t even started before an Earthblood insulted Aanya under his breath.

With all the stress and grief she had been dealing with, that comment served as the breaking point for her temper. The resulting flurry of insults concerning the Earthblood’s inferior character, the lack of help sent to the Spire, and a rather unflattering comparison between the rest of the leaders and a glacier sheep had set the tone for the rest of the meeting.

 _“Make no mistake, you are here solely because we are being_ courteous _enough to inform you of the dangerous beings that we suspect roam our lands. I advise that you withhold any and all opinions about the battle and suffering that preceded it as you do your warriors when aid is called for!”_

The only one to walk out of that meeting satisfied was Aanya, who wasted no time in searching out Amaya and Gren in order to amuse them with a complete recitation of her insults.

She was not asked to attend further meetings; after her return home, Zubeia instead sent summaries of the -lack of- progress that was made in any meeting held afterwards.

“Are the others aware that we are returning the prisoners?”

“I did not see fit to tell them. You made it clear that their opinions and advice in this matter are unwanted, and they have taken it to heart.”

“Not that they intended to interfere or care otherwise.”

Amaya and Aanya had been surprised to learn how little the elves interacted with each other. The humans had apparently assumed that the elves and dragons were close allies, ready and willing to destroy the humans if given enough reason. That they were wrong on every account, that the elves had little to no desire to interact with humans for _any_ reason whatsoever, had left Amaya disquieted for some time.

She wonders if, back then, Amaya could have predicted that she would not only help nurture the tentative truce between Sunfire and humans, but become one half of the greatest symbol of it. That she would return to Katolis not at the side of her nephew, but at the side of the Sunfire Queen. That she would cross the border not as the General of the Standing Battalion, but as Queen Consort of Lux Aurea, a Twin Sun, hero to the Sunfire.

Guilt tries to worm its way into her thoughts and heart, as it always does when she thinks of the position that Amaya has been accidentally trapped in. A quick glance at her friend, however, is enough to dispel it for the time being. It’s so very difficult to hold any negative emotions when watching Amaya learn to fly with the inferno tiger that had found the human intriguing enough to consent to be her mount.

Cringing when Amaya’s mount, Azu, twists into a mid-air spiral that nearly unseats his rider, she thinks that it might not have been the best idea to let those two use this time to bond. They appear to be having fun, and there may be four experienced riders watching over her -also having fun- but she has no desire to deliver a broken Amaya to her nephews and former soldiers.

Zubeia is quick to notice where her gaze lingers. “She has made herself comfortable among the Sunfire.”

“My people have fully accepted her,” she confirms, recalling the festival with pride and no small amount of affection.

 _‘Long before_ we _knew she was one of us,’_ she adds in her mind. The only elf to know of their previous cluelessness is Kazi, though Halim may have his own suspicions.

“...Wonders never cease.”

She smiles wryly at the awe in Zubeia’s voice. She supposes that, from an outside perspective, Amaya’s integration into Lux Aurea is nothing less than a wonder. These last months have felt like a century in and of themselves; all of it with Amaya at her side. But to the rest of the continent, it has _merely_ been months since the Battle of the Spire, and, to much of Xadia, the battle had little to no bearing on their lives.

“Lux Aurea is one thing, but it is the reaction of the humans that concerns me. The horrors that we experienced, the suffering that led to this moment...they cannot be truly understood by those who were not present. From how the prisoners have acted, it is not unreasonable to suspect that many in Katolis will consider her a traitor.”

Much the same way many elves -outside Lux Aurea, though she is certain her city is not entirely free of those of the same mind as Obasi- no doubt consider _her_ a traitor for consorting with a human. No matter that the Dragon Queen herself was saved by and advocates for peace with humans; humans have been the enemy for thousands of years, and no fairy tale will change that overnight. The separate elven tribes can hardly stand _each other_ , and they have not had thousands of years of demonizing each other as a foundation of their relationships, unlike their fraught history with humans.

“Does that frighten her?”

She can’t help it. She snorts. “The only thing Amaya _fears_ is an emergency council meeting.”

Zubeia’s laughter startles the elves and humans below. The elves because they have never heard a dragon laugh, and the humans because, well, they have been stressed and nervous since they were led out of the dungeons. If the leaves so much as rustle unexpectedly they jump halfway across the path. The Sunfire are clearly amused, but know better than to antagonize the prisoners.

Amaya and Aza... they have no such restraint.

It isn’t long before a roar sounds from the back of the line, followed immediately by several high pitched screams. Both sounds melt into laughter and cursing; more than a few Sunfire join in the former, while those who have already been victim to the surprises merely sigh. She has half a mind to scold Amaya for torturing -by way of Amaya’s mount showing a little too much fang and snapping at nearby humans- the prisoners, but the wariness and willingness to stay closer to their Sunfire guards it has encouraged in them is enough of an improvement from their previous attitude that she reluctantly allows Amaya to have her fun.

Meal break comes shortly after. Sunfire, human, and inferno tigers all need food, water, and rest. The pace of their march isn’t harsh by any means, but the prisoners are eager to get away from Xadia, and her Sunfire would rather be enjoying the post-festival atmosphere than herding humans to the border.

The only ones truly enjoying this trip are Amaya and herself. Not that her standards for enjoyment are anything more demanding than “no council meetings.”

By now, the routine of rest time is familiar enough that the prisoners and guards settle easily. This is the end of the easiest portion of their trip; the next portion will be spent traversing through the mountain range, Zubeia flies ahead for her own reasons, but she is not left alone for long. Amaya, Azu, and Kazi are bearing bread and fruits for the three of them when they reach her side. Azu eagerly takes his place next to Italu, both animals watching the bag in her hand that they know contains their favorite treats.

She watches Amaya reward Azu with fresh fish as she does the same for Italu, taking note of the respect between rider and mount. Inferno tigers are temperamental beasts at the best of times, but they are loyal and kind to those they consider worthy of it. Azu is trained as well as any of their domesticated tigers, but, being too stubborn and prone to laziness, had never taken to a rider. After one of their early visits, where he had spent much of the day harassing Amaya for fish, it had been quite clear that he had found one to his liking.

Though Amaya has had little time to bond with Azu, they have so far done well. It’s unfortunate that Amaya will be in Katolis for an undetermined amount of time. The two are coming along in their fledgling partnership, but they cannot risk Azu being tended by humans, or away from trainers for so long.

Azu makes eating a competitive sport. He is determined to sample everything himself, and Italu, who typically does not care for other inferno tigers putting their fangs near _her_ rider, does nothing but watch and yawn.

“This is what happens when you indulge in his impudent behaviors,” she complains after Azu’s curious sniffing nearly causes her to drop her water. She even makes an attempt to pretend she’s irritated, but when the tiger turns and licks the side of Amaya’s head, it takes all her restraint not to laugh instead. Under her breath, she mutters, “Your troops will never know what tortures I have saved them from by not sending him with you.”

Kazi is unable to interpret, as they are dozing against Italu’s side, and Amaya is too distracted with wiping the drool off her face to read her lips. Half a year ago, such open, honest trust and friendship between an elf and a human would have been unthinkable to them, yet with Amaya’s face scrunched up in slight disgust, and one side of her hair sticking out at odd angles, she can’t imagine her life without moments like this.

She does not think much of raising her hand, of reaching over and sliding her fingers through Amaya’s hair. She should, really, because although there are a thousand and one instances of touching between them, most of those have been friendly. Playfully nudging each other, leaning against each other, touches of comfort on shoulders or arms, and the casual touches that come from living in close quarters are all frequent occurrences.

But sometimes...sometimes there are moments when hands linger a breath too long or touches are just shy of being caresses. Moments like now, where she is brushing Amaya’s hair down, across the top of her head and down to the nape of her neck. She has to lean closer to reach, their proximity and Amaya’s intense gaze giving her the chance to appreciate the hazel flecks in her eyes that, in the right light, can almost be called golden. Amaya is leaning into the fingers that graze her scalp, until the fingers reach her neck and she squirms.

The desire to stay in this position rises swiftly, but she forces herself to move away. Amaya is more tactile than any other friend she has ever had -though the number of friends she has had in her life is pathetically small, so that means very little- and she has yet to figure out what their boundaries are. What is the line between friendly and romantic, and how can she ensure that she does not cross it? The desire to be close to Amaya and the desire to avoid sending signals that can be interpreted as pressuring her to stay are frustratingly intertwined, and she has never been all that skilled at dealing with other people on a personal level.

Azu provides a decent excuse for a distraction when he immediately shoves his snout into Amaya’s head. “Enough of that,” she says sternly, pushing his face away before he licks her again. “I’ll not have a Twin Sun of Lux Aurea reeking of fish like some common _Tidebound_.”

The rest of the break passes with peace, light conversation, and the occasional growl of a dreaming tiger. They have to sit away from the prisoners by necessity, to keep the short-tempered tigers from attacking them, but she cannot say that she minds the distance. Once, she would have said that she is close to the other riders; now, as their queen, there is a distance that she has not experienced since she was a princess trying to be a warrior. It reminds her of her time as a trainee; evenings spent eating alone, treating her own wounds, ignoring the stares, the gossip, and the nagging feeling that this, too, will be another place she does not belong.

Considering how the other riders in the distance laugh when Azu knocks Amaya over, perhaps she is being unfair, and they are merely giving her some private time with her...wife. After all, to outside observers, they are a happily married couple about to be separated for an unknown amount of time. It’s considerate of them, even if their assumptions are based on false pretenses.

If anything, the closer they get to the border, the more excited Amaya gets. She has been away from her family and friends for three months now, and letters do little to soothe the pain of distance. Yes, Amaya needs to be back in Katolis with her nephews, away from Lux Aurea and the Sunfire that suddenly expect so much of her.

And if she is dreading the loss of Amaya’s presence, if she thinks of the loneliness of their rooms- the loss of their relaxed mornings and shared suffering of council meetings and their evening meals- and shudders, if she fears that Amaya may never come back, well.

She keeps that to herself, and pretends that the only thing making her anxious is Azu’s temper.

When they resume traveling, she insists that Azu and Italu should rest their wings for a time. Amaya pouts, but gives in with an ease that suggests she is starting to feel the muscle aches from riding. The day continues on in the same manner as before; with riders taking their turns patrolling, prisoners speaking quietly without giving them trouble -no few give her grateful looks after she convinces Amaya to walk ahead of them- and Amaya and Kazi providing conversation.

It is surprisingly peaceful for a prisoner of war transport.

And then Sol Regem comes hurtling through the sky, breathing fire upon the land.

**~Akier~**

When Halim had dragged him aside after their -now ex- Golden Knight returned from the Spire and informed him that he was being recommended to lead the reconstruction and operation of the border outpost, he had been skeptical, to say the least. Their home had been defiled, their people slaughtered, and their army decimated, and then they tell him to go to the border and get along with the humans who attacked the Sunfire?

He had not understood, then, why they should value peace with humans. To be honest, he still does not, but he can admit that his assignment to the border is not as terrible an experience as he expected. His days are simple; he trains, he does paperwork, he checks on the progress of the bridge, he sends his report back to Lux Aurea, and then he does more paperwork.

To be a Knight involves more deskwork than he truly cares for, but...his promotion is an _honor_. It would be rude of him to step down now, no matter how often he stares at the stacks of files on his desk and wonders if his efforts even make a difference. Halim believed in him, after all.

Or maybe Halim just didn’t want to deal with work himself.

It is impossible to tell, with that man.

The warriors he had been charged to lead were the best Lux Aurea had to offer. Or rather, the best of those who survived first the ambush and then the Battle of the Spire. The two battles had all but decimated the Sunfire’s forces; so much so that it almost feels reckless to station an entire unit at the border. That Janai was their Golden Knight long before she was their Queen is the only reason he did not give voice to his skepticism.

Not that he had the energy to, with the training regime Halim had forced upon them. It was a much needed distraction from the chaos of their lives, and left the warriors with little time to eat or sleep, much less complain. Some might have said that the training was _too_ difficult, and _too much_ for clearly traumatized elves, but he and the others merely grit their teeth, stoked their hearts, and kept dragging themselves up. Again. And again. And again.

What were the aches of their bodies compared to the wounds of their soul? With every breath and every step he remembered watching his friends be cut down, remembered dragging a screaming child from the bodies of his parents, remembered sobbing over the body of his own mother.

With every memory, he forced himself to run farther, hit harder, to stand up _just one more time_ because maybe if he did it enough he could sleep without dreaming of rivers running red with blood and the sky marred by smoke and dark magic and their Sun radiating darkness.

The last several generations of Sunfire had known naught but peace, and they had mistaken their lack of enemies as their _superiority_ over any who would challenge them, but a single day proved them wrong.

They would not make that mistake twice.

The two months between his arrival at the border and the arrival of the first prisoners may as well have been two years for how much he had changed. He had grieved, had learned to somewhat tolerate living so near to humans, and built a solid camaraderie with the soldiers soon to be under his command.

He thought he was ready and equal to the task of leading this border outpost, thought that there was nothing left in the world that could surprise him, but two days after the first group of human prisoners are returned to Katolis, and therefore two days after Halim returns to Lux Aurea, proves him wrong.

It starts...with a visit and an odd request.

“Can I have some clothes?”

He stares at the human, then glances at Ekene for an explanation. They shrug, as much at a loss as he is. All his previous interactions with humans at the border consisted of short conversations of the bridge and little else; he isn’t sure how to react to one so brazenly walking into the heart of their outpost and asking for...clothes.

Leaning back into his chair, he considers the human critically. Zahara, he recalls her name to be. He hadn’t paid enough attention to the human prisoners to be able to tell them apart, but this one is slightly more distinctive than the others due to the strength of her heat-being condition. She is also the first and only human to have ever started a conversation not related to the bridge with him. If any can call the words they exchanged at the bridge a “conversation.”

“Do you mean...fireproof clothes?” he questions, tone more hesitant than he wants to admit.

Zahara smirks, seemingly amused by his confusion. “Well, yeah. Not that I would mind if you tossed a few extra _regular_ tunics my way. I never realized how much heat our Katolian uniforms keep in.” She scoffs. “It’s no wonder the General went full Sunfire.”

They are three sentences into this conversation and his mind still cannot comprehend what is happening. In such a state, he decides to ignore why a human is here and why a human is asking for clothes and instead focus on the request itself. “If the quartermaster can find anything small enough to fit you, I suppose it’s hardly a problem,” he says eventually.

Zahara scowls, though he doesn’t understand why. Had he not just agreed to her request?

Thankfully, Ekene too is confused as they lead the human out. Mentally labeling this conversation as the strangest he has ever had, he puts it out of his mind and turns his attention toward the stack of paperwork that, in spite of his best efforts, never shrinks.

Six days later, the human is back.

“....What are you doing here?”

“I’m bored and your training looks tough. I want in.”

His hand twitches from the urge to rub his elbow -a nervous habit that not even years of Halim’s attempts to train him out of can suppress- while his warriors watch the conversation. He feels as if his response will be judged poorly by the others, which is not a fear he has any reason to entertain. What does it matter how he reacts to a single human showing up in their outpost so casually? ...Again.

“Don’t you humans train at your own outpost?”

“Sure, but I’m not _technically_ stationed at the Breach yet, and the rank and file care for us transformed humans even less than you do. Lesser of two evils and all that.”

He sighs, and Zahara crosses her arms defensively. Once again, he is at a loss for words. There is nothing in their regulations saying a human _can’t_ join their training, and they _are_ supposed to be making peace with the humans or something, so he has no true reason to decline. No matter how strange the request is.

“Try and keep up, then.”

She fails to keep up.

It’s no surprise, as the Sunfire have punished themselves with this routine for months, and the human has been imprisoned for most of that same time. More than a few of his warriors sneer at the interloper, though they refrain from otherwise sharing their displeasure. He isn’t too impressed by her physical condition himself, but her determination is, at least, worthy of something approaching respect.

In fact, Zahara seems almost _pleased_ with the difficult training as she drags herself back to the human outpost.

Once again, he puts the interaction out of his mind in order to avoid having to decide on an emotion about the whole situation.

After four days of her joining them in the morning, he realizes that she means to make this a _routine_.

“Are your superiors aware that you are crossing the border every day?”

Zahara, sitting against the armoury wall, shrugs. Her head and shoulders are drenched from the water she dumped over herself, though he doubts the water -and sweat- will take long to evaporate. “Fast to dry” is not always a welcome perk of being cursed with permanent heat-being mode.

“They gave me an undetermined amount of free time to see my family or relax or whatever, since I was technically a prisoner of war.” Her face loses any semblance of emotion, though her tone remains light. “My... _family_ didn’t need that much time to decide that they didn’t want to have me around, and like I said, the soldiers at the Breach are hardly more welcoming. I don’t have to officially report in until they tell me to, which may not be until the other prisoners are handed off to Duren.”

The explanation leaves him with more questions than answers, but he doesn’t need Halim’s level of perception to see that she isn’t willing to discuss it further. It doesn’t matter either way; as long as it won’t cause problems for him, he doesn’t care.

The talk of her family, however, reminds him that he has several letters from home to read and respond to. Finding time for it isn’t hard; it’s finding the letters under his stacks of paperwork that is the real mission.

_Aki,_

_You sound a little less desperate and homesick in your last letter. Good on you. Knight Halim delivered your letter, and claimed that you will be perfectly fine on your own, because obviously his favorite pupil would settle for nothing less. While I’m sure you’ll settle into your position soon, to say that you’re his favorite is an outright lie. Most everyone is aware that his favorite has always been Her Radiance. Not that anyone can really blame him for that._

_The promotion I mentioned father was being considered for came through. Now he gets to rub elbows with the most important elves in the construction business. I won’t pretend to know who they are or what their names are, but his superior reports directly to the Queen herself. He has attended meetings with the Queen twice now, and has declared her to have more common sense than every other noble combined. It’s quite the compliment, coming from him._

_On a less depressing note, Mazi demands a gift from his uncle. I tried to tell him that there isn’t anything at the border worth spitting at, but he’s a stubborn thing. Snag something human, why don’t you? General Amaya is rather popular with the children. I’m sure his friends will be impressed if he gets his hands on human trinkets._

_Take care of yourself_

“A human trinket? No child would want one of _those_ ,” he scoffs. Moving on to the next letter -an update from Halim- he briefly wonders at his sister’s lack of information about herself. How typical. At least she left out her usual scolding for his habit of overworking himself, though he doubts she has permanently laid the argument to rest.

Halim’s news is business related, though it’s the post script that contains the most troubling information.

_P.S. Janai and Amaya both will be among the transport guards. I trust you to make the necessary preparations._

Janai. And Amaya. The queens. _His_ queens. Are coming to the border. In less than a month.

He crumples up the letter and launches it across the room with as much strength as he can. The distance it travels is pitiful, but it makes him feel slightly better.

“Give me more information than that, damn you!”

He accidentally skips training the next day, walking past the group -who happens to be running nearby- with determined strides and mind racing with plans for what their pitiful outpost would need to prepare for the queens. All he knows about the former Golden Knight is that she often refused to stand on ceremony, and had a particular aversion to being called by her royal title since she joined the Sun Warriors. Well, that and she has a hotcat, which means he will most definitely have to redirect some warriors to fixing their kennels. Where one hotcat goes, the others follow is something all warriors know.

“Uh, did you sleep in? Training started already.”

He blinks and looks behind him without slowing his stride. Zahara and Ekene, both dressed for training and sweating just enough to show that they haven’t been at it for long, are following him.

“I haven’t slept,” he says plainly. “I received news that Queen Janai will be accompanying Consort Amaya.”

Ekene makes an appropriately horrified whimper at the news, though Zahara is somewhat less impressed. “It’s _General_ Amaya. No one in Lux Aurea calls her consort. And anyway, the General has a room at the Breach, so I doubt you need to worry about housing either queen. Might need to prepare a room for the Idiot, though. At worst, you'll have to let Freckles know if you want, like, a personal guard there for Queen Janai or something. She keeps a smaller guard than any previous queen, so it probably won’t be an issue. If she even bothers with one, ‘cause I’ve heard that she gives the Sun Warriors heart attacks by taking off to do her surveys without them.”

The information soothes some of his nerves. Perhaps he has been overreacting. It’s just a short visit, and Halim has never described Her Radiance as overly critical. Impatient, perhaps, but not cruel. At most, Queen Janai will want to inspect their progress; progress that Halim has no doubt personally updated her on.

“...How do you have such knowledge of Lux Aurea and Her Radiance?” he asks after a moment of contemplation. The question is slightly off topic, but it is certainly valid. For a prisoner to know more of his queen than a career warrior is suspicious.

“Our guards gossiped more than old ladies at a market. Listening to them was the only entertainment I had once I stopped wanting to die.”

Stopping at the remains of what used to be a kennel, he glances back at Ekene, hoping they have a response to such alarming words being delivered so carelessly.

Ekene blinks slowly, offering him nothing. Perhaps it is best to ignore it, then.

“...I see. Ekene, alert the building crew that the kennels are now high priority while I go with Zahara to speak with her lieutenant.”

“Right away.”

“ _Not_ technically mine.”

He hears their responses, but can’t spare the effort to respond. Now that he has gotten past his initial concern, he can think further on the implications of the change in plans. Had something happened back home? Politics is not his area of expertise, but _something_ significant must have happened if it was enough to change the _queen’s_ schedule.

But wouldn’t Halim have warned him of such a thing if it were to pose a problem to the outpost?

...He wants to believe his mentor would, but he sometimes has his doubts.

As he follows a complaining Zahara to the human’s outpost, he finds himself hoping that maybe the General was kind enough to give her former lieutenant more information than Halim graced his own people with. Either way, his only course of action is to act with the knowledge he _does_ have, and he is determined to be prepared for this sudden change of plans.

It’s just a shame he never planned on them arriving early, singed troops and prisoners arriving in the dead of night, snarling about Sol Regem attacking them, Queen Zubeia fighting him, and demanding he send his troops to collect the injured and their Queens, who had opted to watch over them.

But at least he had been right about Queen Janai utilizing the hotcat troops for the transport.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It took a LOT longer to get this chapter out than I expected, even though it's been 95% done for a month now. Certain parts of it were a real struggle to get through, or didn't sound right after re-reading. BUT, I hope you enjoyed it!
> 
> ....It appears Zahara is here to stay. Why are OCs like this?


End file.
